


The Promise of Your Hand in Mine

by Arithra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Goddess Tower (Fire Emblem), Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Handholding, Haunting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Panic Attacks, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), baby!felix pov, dancer!dimitri, mentions of Genocide (Duscur), violence against children (Duscur)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 111,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithra/pseuds/Arithra
Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, but most never find them, Felix knew from an early age that his place is at Dimitri’s side. Though the tragedy of Duscur twisted their fates into a direction neither of them were expecting, Felix stayed beside him.Angry, frustrated and abrasive, it seemed, at times, like all the kindness Dimitri knew him to hold is gone. Yet, he remained with him all the same - a familiar voice cutting through the clamor of the dead haunting Dimitri’s every step. But the world has always been bigger than the two of them, and with war on the horizon, what difference can one person hope to make?Or: Felix is Dimitri's soulmate, and that means he stays, whether he likes it or not.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Blue Lions Students, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 56
Kudos: 74
Collections: Dimilix Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure to pay attention to the additional content warnings in notes at the beginning of the chapter! 
> 
> With beautiful art from @[ardentiia](https://twitter.com/ardentiia)! Special thanks to [grey](https://twitter.com/almyranpine) for beta reading.
> 
> This fic starts out a bit slow! If you aren't too keen on childhood shenanigans, feel free to skip to either chapter 2 - the Goddess Tower scene (with art) which is referenced later, or directly to Chapter 3 where the story really picks up!

Some say that soulmates were a gift from the goddess, but old scriptures state differently. Humans had always had soulmates, but it was the goddess that had given them the means to find each other. In the past, people have argued that it was cruelty, not mercy and grace. Nothing but another way to show that people were not worth the same. After all, gift or no gift, no one could know for sure how they would even find their soulmate - or if their mark would help them with it at all. For while one person might have their soulmate’s name curling on their wrist, another could spend their entire life believing that their monochrome world floods with color the moment they finally meet their soulmate, only for the greys to remain when they found each other or never met at all. As a consequence, the way one finds ones soulmate is one of the most private, if not the most private things a person can reveal. 

The world was vast and wide and humans splintered far and wide all over it. Who is to say that you were born in the same village, the same country, or even the same continent? 

And maybe the greatest cruelty of all was that even if you met your soulmate, it would not guarantee your happiness. A soulmate could be anyone. A sibling, a parent, a teacher, a friend, a lover, an enemy. The only thing meeting your soulmate guaranteed was that they would have an impact on your life, be it for good or ill. And what if you recognize your soulmate the moment they meet, but for them, it takes years more, or they never realize it at all.

So, is it a gift or a curse?

In the end, it depends on the person. One person’s greatest happiness could be the curse that shackled another to death and beyond. 

As a child, Felix could not understand how knowing your soulmate could not be a good thing. Because while it might have taken him some years to make the connection, he had known his soulmate for as long as he had been alive. As an infant, as a toddler, as a child and even as a young teen. Not seeing his soulmate for more than a few weeks at a time was strange and unusual. After all, Dimitri was both his best friend and his soulmate, and it only took Felix five years to figure it out.

For as long as Felix could remember his skin and hair used to be covered in blue smudges. It was so common in fact, that the first time he saw the color of the skin on his hands he got worried and ran to his mother to seek comfort. After all Felix’s hands, more than any other part of him was supposed to be blue. The color had sometimes disappeared from his arms, from his shoulder and hair and face, but his hands, for as long as he could remember, had always been blue. 

So when he woke up in the morning and saw his hands—fleshy and only covered in the slightest traces of blue—Felix was terrified. His breathing became fast and uneven and tears pooled in his eyes. One of them dripped down on his no-longer-really-blue-hands as he stared at them in distress. He didn’t know what to do. 

Something was wrong. 

Felix hiccuped in distress. His father and brother were out of the castle on a tour through the territory, which naturally meant that we went to his mother. 

It was still early in the morning and his mother, sickly and tired as she often was, usually slept late. He knew he wasn’t supposed to disturb her during her resting times, but just this once Felix had to. Without putting on any shoes or additional clothes, he stumbled from his room and into the deserted hallway that was lit by the cold light of the early sun. 

The hallway blurred in front of his eyes and Felix choked back a sob, attempting to be quiet. He used the sleeve of his sleep shirt to wipe his eyes and bit his lips to stop any sound from escaping him. If any of the servants found him sneaking around they would not allow him to go to his mother, but this was not something just anyone could help him with. After all, something was seriously wrong with Felix. 

Thankfully, he encountered no one. The only sounds accompanying him were the pitter-patter of his naked feet on the stone floor and the sobs he could not quite suppress. Still, he made his way to his mother’s private chambers where she slept most of the time and opened the doors just enough to squeeze through. 

His mother was still asleep and did not rouse herself at the sound of the door opening and closing.

Felix hesitated, memories of his father shushing him and Glenn, as well as of his mother’s constant tiredness, warring with the memories of her warm arms around him. In the end, the desire for comfort and help won out, and he made his way over to the bed.

“Mama..” quietly at first, he started calling for her. Father always said not to shake a warrior awake, and his mother was a warrior too. That’s how she and his father met. Whispering her name, however, was not enough to wake the sleeping Duchess, so Felix called her louder. “Mama!” 

Matilda Angeline Fraldarius startled awake, hand going under her pillow and whirling around. Her long brown hair flying around her like a halo. At first, her eyes flickered through the air above them, then she spotted him and blinked in surprise. Felix looked back wide-eyed. 

“Felix?” his mother whispered, one hand going to her chest and the other withdrawing from below her pillow to tug some strands of her hair behind her ear. “What is wrong, my sweet?”

Felix swallowed, his slight shock at his mother’s rapid awakening fading as he remembered the true crisis.

“My hand, mama!” he waved it around in the air. Sure that she would immediately understand what was bothering him. Instead, she frowned and her eyes followed his waving hand. 

“Calm now. Show me your hand. What is wrong?” Surprised at her lack of understanding Felix stopped waving his hand long enough for his mother to grab it in her own hand and pull it towards herself. She inspected his fingers and nails, rubbed his palm with her thumb, and then pursed her lip slightly looking him in the eye. Felix fidgeted and tried to pull his hand back, feeling uncomfortable, but his mother held firm.

“Felix. Maybe I’m missing something. Will you please tell me what is wrong?”

Her face was soft, her hair still mussed, but her eyes were clear. Felix tried to blink back his tears. He had thought she would understand. How could she not?

“The color,” he whispered, biting his lips and raising his free hand to rub his eyes, the sight of his hand so close to his face, only powdery blue made even more tears come. “The blue is going away.” 

“Blue?” she repeated slightly stunned, her gaze wandering from his hand to his face and back. “Why would your hand be blue, my sweet?”

Felix gawked at her, stunned that she should ask that. “Because that's how they are!” he exclaimed, distress rising even, and tears dripping down his cheeks. “They are always blue, but now the blue is going away!”

At once, his mother reached for him to console him before she suddenly froze in her movement. Then, she started laughing, the sound tinkering like bells in the air. Her eyes crinkled and she framed his face with her eyes. “I see. Of course. That makes sense.” 

The anxiety and fear he had been feeling faded slightly, and he felt himself calm down just a little, tears still running, but no longer outright sobbing. If his mother was laughing and finally, finally understanding, then it could not be too bad. Maybe it was just a growing up thing. After all, his mother was his mother and she had never ever let him down. “Oh sweetheart,” she cooed and Felix flushed under the amused sparkle of her eyes, so like his own. “Come here.” she released him and patted the space on the bed next to her, and obediently Felix clambered onto the bed.

When he had settled himself she threw her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into her side, Felix went willingly. 

“Mhm,” his mother hummed, and squeezed him slightly, “how do I explain…”

Felix fidgeted. “Is it bad?”

“No,” the answer came immediately, “It’s not bad.”

“Is it good?”

“No,” again there was no hesitation, “not that either. It just is.”

The duchess took a deep breath. “What do you know about soulmates, Felix?”

Thrown, Felix moved slightly away from her to meet her eyes properly, something that he only tolerated for his mother, as she always insisted that eye contact helped a lot in conversations. Felix didn’t really think so, other people understood him just fine, but it was important to her.

“Soulmates?”

“Yes,” she nodded and waited for him to collect his thoughts.

“Everyone has one. Like in the stories of Loog and Kyphon who were like brothers even though they weren’t brothers like me and Glenn.”

“Glenn and I.” came the correction, and Felix puffed his cheek slightly but did not correct himself. His mother rolled her eyes and Felix found himself giggling at the unladylike gestures that he would certainly be chided for if he did it in public. His mother winked as she caught his eye. 

“And how do soulmates find each other?”

Felix though for a moment, but then found himself frowning because it was always different. Some knew they were soulmates the moment they looked each other in the eye—and Felix had always thought that that sounded just terrible!—or following a string that led them to each other.

“I don’t know. The stories just make it up?”

That got him another laugh.

“Maybe,” his mother allowed, “the only people who would know for sure are the soulmates themselves after all, and they did not write the stories. You see,” she added, “there is no one way for soulmates to find each other. It is different for everyone.”

Then she reached up to her left wrist and took off the elegant cuff that Felix had never seen her without. She unlatched the clasp holding it close with agile fingers and pulled it off. Then she held out her arm for him to inspect. Felix was immediately transfixed by the sight that greeted him. There, on his mother’s arm usually hidden from sight by the cuff, was what looked like a very detailed painting of two birds—swans, he recognized—one white and one black curled around each other. 

Swans he knew, were his mother’s favorite animals. She had a collection of glass figures decorating her shelves, and when Felix painted them for her it always made her smile. However, something about the image was off. Frowning in confusion her leaned closer to get a better look. It was the white swan that kept throwing him off. Where the black one was glossy and almost seemed alive, the contouring of the white one was smudged and faded. Like someone had made sure the black one looked perfect, but had forgotten about the white one, and instead rubbed their hand over the drawing and messed it up. (That had happened to Felix before). 

He wanted to ask his mother why she hadn’t had it fixed, and if the mess was the reason he hid it, but when he looked up again, something in her gaze stilled his tongue.

“This is my gift from the goddess. Or was, I suppose,” she said after a moment of silence, “I was given a mark at birth that represented both me and my soulmate.”

Felix fidgeted when she paused again, and a wry smile played on his mother’s lips.

“They say that everyone is given one gift by the goddess that will help them find or recognize their soulmate. My mother told me, that when I was born, there was only a smudge on my arm, but when I met my soulmate, the lines cleared up and the swans formed. The black one for me,” she pointed at it, “and the white one for my soulmate.”

Felix was silent for a moment, gaze flickering between his mother and her arm. He wanted to ask, but it seemed very rude to ask her why the image that stood for her soulmate was ugly and messed up. The inner struggle—translated into outer unrest by his fidgeting—did not go unnoticed by his mother. She chuckled, sounding amused yet sad. Felix didn’t like it.

“The white swan used to be just as clear and pretty as the black one.” Felix looked up from her arm, noting the heaviness in her voice. “But then she died.”

For a moment Felix stopped breathing. That sounded horrible, and - “Isn’t father your soulmate?” Because that was how it was always in the stories. 

The question startled his mother and she snorted inelegantly. “Sothis, no!” she said with laughter, “I love your father very dearly, but he is not my soulmate.” the thought seemed to amuse her terribly, and Felix flushed in embarrassment. 

Laugher still evident in her voice, explained, “My soulmate was my sister, your aunt,” a pause, then more somber, “she died when we were still children.”

Felix looked at the intertwined swans, the black one for his mother, and the smudged white one for the aunt he never knew. 

“Did she have the same mark?” he asked after what he thought was an appropriate amount of somber silence.

“No,” his mother said and shook her head, “for her it was something else. It is very, very rare for people to have the same gift, no matter what the stories make it look like. In fact, I do not think I have heard of a pair outside of the stories.” she paused, “But then again, it is not something people talk about.”

“Why not?” Felix questioned, “Aren’t soulmates a good thing?”

“For many people, yes, but like in the stories where a soulmate can be your best friend, or like with me and my sister, there is no set role that a soulmate fulfills.” Felix frowned, not quite understanding, so she elaborated further. “Say your soulmate is in a faraway country. If you meet them in a market and talk you might be friends, but if there was a war and you would fight each other, that would be different.”

That sounded rather terrible, Felix would hate for his soulmate to be a bad guy. But now that his mother had brought up the possibility, he could not chase the thought away. When he grew up he would be a knight, and protect Dima who would be king. If someone attacked them—

A hand landing on his head and carding through his hair pulled him from his darkening thoughts.

“There is no need to cry. I do not think you need to worry about that, my sweet.” she squeezed his hand gently, “after all, you already know your hint. And if the color is fading now, that means that someone probably put it there before. Can you think about who touched your hands?” she sounded hopeful, but Felix noted the trace of worry in her voice, he did not like it.

Not just my hands, my arms too, or my shoulder, and sometimes my hair. Or-” he added with a pout, “my nose once.”

“I see,” his mother said, sounding thoughtful, yet amused and relieved. “Then I think that might mean that the blue,” she emphasized the word like it was something special, Felix liked it, “appeared wherever your soulmate touched you, and fades away with time. That has happened in house Fraldarius before,“ she added, “the hints are often colors.”

Felix blinked. “Father and Glenn too?”

His mother paused for a moment thinking. “Soulmates are a very private matter, my sweet. I know your father’s hint has something to do with color, but he never told me the specifics. And your brother too, though he told me no more than that.”

Felix found himself unwillingly pouting. He knew that soulmates were private. The stories always used fancy descriptions like the _truth she held in her heart_ or _the secret he had shared with no other_ when talking about them. He knew that everyone had a soulmate, and he wasn’t supposed to ask people about it, but shouldn’t family be different? 

It was his mother speaking again that drew him from his musings.

“So, my blue little boy.” Felix giggled, liking the new nickname, even if he wasn’t that little anymore, as his mother wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “Can you remember who touched you where you are blue?”

Felix thought about it for a while, but then the answer came to him. He should have known from the very beginning. “It’s Dima,” he told her, “He always holds my hand.”

Something on his mother’s face tightened and a shadow passed over it too fast for Felix to figure out why, but before he could ask, she smiled.

“The little prince, huh?”

Felix grinned at her. “Yes. Dima is my best friend.”

His mother’s smile remained. “So he is.”

But then, she told him to keep it quiet. Being a person’s soulmate was something very private, and not something you talked about with anyone but that person when you were both sure. When Felix asked her how he would know when Dima knew they were soulmates, she simply smiled and told him that it was something that would be clear in time. 

When they were older. 

She told him that sometimes bad people would take advantage of such knowledge to hurt him, or his soulmate, she added after seeing his mulish look. Felix did not want Dima to get hurt. His mother also made him promise to make sure. And Felix promised her he would, even if he knew that the person could be no one but Dima. The only other people who regularly held his hand were his direct family, and in the days that followed the promise and his father and brother returned he made sure to check. The blue did not return, and Felix longed to finally be able to go back to Fhirdiad and see Dima again, even if he could not tell him they were soulmates just yet. 

It made sense he supposed. Discovering your soulmate was a special and magical thing. After his worry had passed Felix had been giddy with excitement. He would not want to take that away from Dima. So when Dima finally figured it out, slower than Felix for once, Felix would tell him that he already knew. And everything would be great.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190490029@N02/50423570367/)

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix was giddy with happiness by the time they finally returned to the capital. He was so enthusiastic, in fact, that both his father and brother commented on it. 

“What has gotten into you, Felix?” Glenn asked, not without annoyance because currently Felix was sitting in the saddle in front of him instead of riding with their father or in a carriage.

“I missed Dima,” Felix told him honestly and Glenn rolled his eyes, while their father riding next to them chuckled.

“I’m sure his highness will be glad you see you as well, Felix, but impatience does not make the journey shorter.”

“It makes it longer even.“ Glenn added grumpily but was ignored.

“It has been really long this time,” Felix told his father seriously, “longer than ever.”

Rodrigue hummed in agreement, but Glenn chose to be contrary, “You have been parted from his Highness longer than that, bratling.”

“When I was a baby and that doesn’t count.” Felix shot back because the blue had never faded before, which meant that this time was the longest ever that actually counted.

“You are still a baby.” came the dry response. At ten years of age, Glenn was much taller than Felix, and usually, that was an advantage when they squabbled, but with Felix seated in front of him, he was helpless against his pointy elbows. 

“Ow! Felix, stop!” Glenn tried to squirm away from him, and the horse danced unhappily below them. 

“Glenn, Felix.” their father chided, but while he did not interfere he kept a close eye on the horse. Felix blinked away some tears of frustration and jabbed his elbow back again.

“I’m not a baby. Take that back.”

Another jab of his elbow and Glenn cursed, earning himself a stern look from his father, but he eventually chose not to fight a battle which would gain him nothing.

“Alright, alright. You are not a baby. Now, stop squirming, unless you want to fall.”

Felix froze immediately and gave the horse a suspicious look. He did not much like horses, though he wanted to learn to ride because Sylvain had said that he had started his lesson already, and Felix didn’t like not being able to do things that others could. Rodrigue had promised him that he could start his lessons after his birthday when the weather got better.

They rode in peace for a couple of minutes before another argument started, but eventually, after several days of travel, they reached the capital, and Felix noted that his father’s shoulders relaxed as soon as the city was in sight.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Their approach had not been unnoticed in the city, and as their train rode through the main street people called out to them, mostly shouting for Duke Fraldarius or the Shield of Fearghus. Felix reckoned that the reason they called him that was because of the Aegis Shield - it was very noticeable and glowy. His father acknowledged the people by waving his hand once in a while but did not stop their track towards the castle.

When they rode in the courtyard the stablehands and servants were already prepared to receive them and take charge of their horses. Felix looked around for the familiar shade of blond that Dima and the king shared, but could not spot them, which probably meant that they weren’t there yet. The king had a presence that no one could ignore after all.

After his father had dismounted he turned towards Felix and Glenn, still atop the horse, and lifted Felix from the saddle before placing him on the ground. Glenn dismounted on his own, and that was much better than having to be lifted like a baby. Unfortunately, Felix wasn’t yet tall enough to get up and down from the big warhorses safely. 

While he was glad to be back on his own feet, with all the people in the courtyard that also meant that he could not see much at all, except people walking back and forth. Leading horses or carrying the luggage. Nodding to himself, Felix decided to make his way towards the stairs which lead up to the big entrance hall, but a hand landing heavily on his shoulder stopped him. Startled he looked up and met his father’s eyes.

“And where do you think you are going?” 

Felix blinked, “To find Dima?”

Rodrigue chuckled, “We are earlier than expected Felix, Prince Dimitri will still be in his lessons, so you won’t see him until later.”

Disappointment filled Felix. He had already waited way too long to meet Dima again. Since he had had the conversation with his mother about soulmates, all of the blue on his hands had faded away, making them look like the hands of other people.

Clearly, some of his feelings showed on his face, because his father’s hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, tousling it gently. 

“Come now, let's greet the king,” Rodrigue instructed and led Felix by his shoulder through the throngs of people that parted easily in front of him, Glenn following behind. 

At the bottom of the staircase that Felix had wanted to go to anyway a man in the armor of the Lion’s Corps was waiting for them. The knight greeted Felix’s father with a bow, and they all returned it, if less deep, but as soon as he had straightened, however, Rodrigue gripped the man’s arm in a comradely fashion.

“Bernt, it has been a while,” greeted Rodrigue.

The knight—Ser Bernt—chuckled, “So it has, it seems like you were only in the capital whenever I was out. Our timing used to be better.”

The two men laughed together, and Felix chanced a questioning look up at his brother who stood next to their father. His glance went unnoticed, however, as Glenn was busy admiring the knight’s intricate armor, especially the lion on the breastplate. Felix didn’t know what was so special about it, they had seen plenty of Lion’s corps knights before, even if this man’s armor was especially eye-catching. 

“Glenn, Felix,” his father’s voice called his attention. “This is my good friend Ser Bernt, he is the captain of the Lion’s Corps.” Felix’s eyes widened, suddenly the man seemed much more interesting.

“Bernt, these are Glenn, my eldest and heir, and Felix, my younger son” He gestured towards them in turn, “You have met them both before, but it has been a while.”

Ser Bernt gave them both a welcoming smile. “It is good to see you again, it seems like you have both grown a lot.” An amused twinkle appeared in his eyes, “Especially Felix, I believe the last time you were still small enough to hold in one hand,” and he caught Felix’s eye and winked, making Felix flush slightly and duck into his father’s side, while Glenn laughed. His Father chuckled as well, but his hand landed comfortingly on Felix’s shoulder. 

“Shall we go?”

Ser Bernt nodded, “Yes, King Lambert asked me to come to greet you,” then in a quieter voice he added, “I believe he is avoiding his paperwork.” 

Rodrigue chuckled with amusement, and Glenn seemed to get the joke as well. “A formal receiving room then?”

“Quite.” 

They moved up the stairs quickly, and just as the people had parted for his father, they parted for Ser Bernt and their party. Unlike in the city streets, the greetings called to them were either more informal, if it was a personal acquaintance, or more so, as they received plenty of formal bows or courtesies. It was one of the things that Felix did not like about Fhirdiad. The people at home, while still deferential, were a lot more casual when it came to interacting with them. In fact, he was pretty sure that the head chef in the castle kitchen would never smack anyone with a wooden spoon, like Misses Marta did to Glenn when he tried to sneak out some sweets. Stuff like that didn’t happen to Felix, since he knew sweets were gross and sticky.

Even with people greeting them, however, no one stopped them and they reached the formal receiving rooms quickly enough. Felix had been here before, though usually, Dimitri met them in the courtyard and Felix would get to run off with him, and only make his greetings at the informal dinners that the King liked to have with his family when they first arrived. 

The greeting rooms were elaborate and comfortable rooms that still held an air of professionalism. If you wanted to play inside of them, you would always worry that you would mess something up and get in trouble. They were some of Felix's least favorite rooms in the castle, above the old dungeons, but below the throne room, which was even more formal, but at least a lot cooler looking.

Ser Brent opened the door for them and stepped aside, allowing Rodrigue to enter the room first, Felix followed closely behind, which allowed him a short glimpse of King Lambert lounging on one of the chairs, feet up on the side table. The King moved very quickly and took his feet down, but Glenn who had paused a moment before entering did not notice. That meant that Felix was the only one who understood why his father was suddenly wearing the _look_ , while Glenn looked like he was mentally going through all the mischief that he had recently been part of.

“Your Majesty,” the censure in Rodrigue’s tone was light almost teasing, but there all the same. Felix was pretty sure that his father was the only person in the whole kingdom who would dare to tease the king, except maybe the grand duke, who was his older brother and teasing was what older brothers did, but Rufus was never around, or stinky Ser Gustave who always looked on disapprovingly whenever Dimitri got into trouble with them. 

It was pretty funny to have the King give his father a sheepish smile, but given that this was King Lambert - Dimitri’s dad, and the man who had insisted on being called uncle when Felix was younger until father put his foot down—it was maybe not as strange as it could have been.

However, Dima was not in the room they were led into. His father, it seemed, was right, and Felix would not see Dima for a while. He bit his lip unhappily and gazed down at his fleshy colored hands, while his father and the king greeted each other. A poke into his back from Glenn drew his attention upwards again. And to his horror, he found that he was at the center of attention. His father looked at him with a raised brow, Glenn removed the poking finger and King Lambert grinning at him cheerfully.

“What is with your face, Felix?” the king addressed him, “you look a bit unhappy.”

Felix blushed slightly. “Dima is still in his lessons?”

The king chuckled, his eyes twinkling, “Ah, how painful. It seems like I’m not good enough a greeting? Second best to my son?”

The blush on Felix's face deepened and he stammered out his denials. He was plenty happy to see King Lambert, he was one of Felix’s favorite adults, but he just wasn’t Dima, who Felix most wanted to see.

The king probably would have continued with his teasing—once he had unintentionally taken it so far as to make Felix cry even when he knew there was no ill intent behind it—but, thankfully, his father interfered.

“Lambert.”

He sounded exasperated and chiding, much like he did when Glenn and Felix had gotten up to no good and caused a mess.

The king stopped his teasing and chuckled again, then he went down into a crouch to meet Felix’s eyes. Felix forced himself not to look away, even if he could feel the redness on his face and the burning in his eyes.

“Actually, Dimitri is not in his lessons,” the king informed him kindly with the smile that Felix liked because it was just like Dima’s and always made him feel better, “Dimitri is in his rooms, I’m sure he will be glad to see you. He had a slight fever yesterday so-”

Felix gasped. Whatever it was that Lambert had wanted to add, Felix did not know. Instead, he turned around and ran from the receiving room to make his way towards Dima’s rooms. Only pausing to look back before he reached the door for a heartbeat. “Thank you. I’m gonna go see Dima. Bye.” he told both King Lambert and his father and brother and left without waiting to be dismissed. 

He hoped that his best friend was fine, the last time Felix had had a fever he had felt terrible for ages, all sticky and gross and unable to play. Even after he had started feeling better he had to stay in bed for a while. It had been terribly boring.

Behind him, he could hear his father’s exasperated call of his name, Glenn’s squeak of surprise, and the king’s booming laughter.

“Make sure to be quiet, Felix! If he is asleep, don’t wake him up!” the king called after him. Felix nodded, though the King probably could not see it. His father had told him that it was rude to shout in the hallways, however, so he could hardly shout back to the king, even if the king was doing it himself. Maybe it wasn’t rude if it was the king doing it?

Castle Blaiddyd was familiar to Felix, he had spent many hours playing and exploring the hallways and room all over the castle with his friends, but the place he was most familiar with was the wing in which the private apartments of the royal family were. The rooms that were reserved for his family were close to them, and even the boring lesson room was there. 

And as soon as Felix entered the royal wing, he noticed something amazing. The blue was here. In some spaces it was on the banisters, the wall or the door handles, and even on the ground, there were almost unnoticeable footprints in a soft shade of blue. It seemed that Dimitri left the blue color—and it was definitely his favorite color now! - not only on Felix but on everything he touched. And only Felix could see it. The thought filled him with a prideful sort of giddiness and he didn’t even try to hold back the smile. 

The blue on the door handle of Dimitri’s own room was the deepest blue Felix had seen, deeper even than his hands used to be. Felix knocked on the door but did not receive an answer. It caused him to pause for a moment, wondering whether he should knock again, but he decided against it. After all, King Lambert had told him not to wake Dima up if he was sleeping. Although entering another person’s room without permission might be rude, Felix was sure that Dima would forgive him. 

Carefully, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He looked around, but Dima wasn’t in the entrance area of his chambers, which meant he was in his bedroom. Nodding to himself Felix carefully closed the door behind himself, and made his way over to the bedroom area. 

The entrance area, where Dima spent most of his time, was big and light. It was the place they played most of the time and now that Felix looked at it with his new knowledge of the blue, he realized that it should have been obvious that the dashes of colors he was so familiar with were not quite ordinary. After all, there was no way that the prince’s room would be allowed to look like someone had dumped color all over the room. It made everything look a bit messy, but Felix found that he liked it. This was Dima’s room where his friend was free to do whatever he wanted, even if that apparently included climbing the bookshelf.

The door to Dimitri’s actual bedroom was not quite closed, but pushed close enough to give the appearance of it. Felix found it convenient, especially because he was trying to be as quiet as possible. 

He pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. The curtains were drawn close and there was a lump in the middle of the big bed. On his tiptoes Felix snuck into the room and close to the bed, taking a peek at Dima. His best friend—and his soulmate!—was asleep, breathing deeply and calmly, though there was a slight flush to his cheeks that was probably from the fever that King Lambert had mentioned. Careful not to disturb him, Felix clambered atop the bed and sat down next to him. He had hoped that Dima would be awake so he could check and make 100 percent sure that he was really his soulmate, just like he had promised his mother. 

He wondered if Dima knew they were soulmates, but decided that that was probably not the case. It did not seem like something that Dima would keep to himself. Did that mean that Felix had to wait for Dima to figure it out as well? How would they let each other know they were soulmates? In the stories, it always seemed obvious. And his mother had told him to keep it a secret because it was wrong to tell someone you were their soulmate if they did not know it themselves. It was alright to care for them all the same, but, in the words of his mother, some things you did not need to get told but needed to experience instead.

Felix wanted to experience his hands becoming blue again when Dima held them, but for now, he had to wait. With deft hands, he undid his shoes and placed them on the floor with extra care so Dima would not wake up from the thump that would happen if he let them simply drop to the floor instead.

Wiggling around on the bed—carefully, of course—Felix searched for a comfortable position to wait for Dima to wake up. Eventually, he decided to lie down as that was the most comfortable.

Dima’s bed was really, really comfortable, and Felix liked sneaking into his room and sleeping here with him. They could whisper until deep into the night and tell stories, and Felix almost never had nightmares when he slept with Dima, unlike when he slept in his own chambers in the castle. And even if he did, having his best friend next to him breathing evenly, waking up to pat him on the shoulder sleepily and hold his hand, was much much nicer than having to make his way out of his room to find his father or brother. 

Felix turned onto his left side so he was facing his friend. Where the prince’s face was mushed into the pillow the white linen was dyed in Felix’s favorite shade of blue. It wasn’t as intense as the door handles, but that was probably because the sheets were changed a lot. For a moment he entertained the curious thought about the clean linen in other rooms still having blue spots that no one but him would be able to see. It would probably be funny to keep an eye out for it, Felix decided with a smile. But for now, he only had to wait for Dima to wake up, or for someone to get them for dinner.

He had not meant to fall asleep.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix woke up to something carding through his hair, which was comfortable, and something feathery that was making his nose itch. He wrinkled his nose and tried to turn his face aside. A familiar giggle caused him to open his eyes to come face to face with Dima who was leaning over him. The prince had not bothered to crawl out of the bed or throw back the blankets, instead, he had simply turned over and pushed himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Felix. His hair was still messy from sleep and sticking up in some places. 

When their gazes met, Dima grinned at him.

“Hello, Felix.”

Felix beamed. “Dima, you are awake!” Then he remembered the previous flush on his friend's cheeks, “are you feeling better?”

The other boy nodded. “Yes, I am feeling quite fine, sleeping helped me a lot. When did you and your family arrive?” Felix rolled his eyes at his friends' overly formal way of talking but didn’t say anything. It was just a Dima thing. 

“Shortly after lunch, I think? We were really fast. And I got to ride with Glenn and father.” 

“Really?” Dima gave him a big smile, making Felix smile in return because obviously, Dima had remembered how much it had annoyed him to be stuck in the carriage all the time. But as Dima smiled brightly, he noticed something else and his eyes went wide. 

Dima had a gap between his teeth, right in the front one of them was missing. Felix scrambled up from his lying position to get a better look. Dima bent backward to avoid smashing their heads together, making him flop back into his pillows. 

“You lost a tooth!” Felix exclaimed in excitement and watched as Dima flushed. Sylvain had told them that losing teeth and getting proper adult ones was part of growing up. All of Felix’s teeth were still going strong, and he would bet that Ingrid hadn’t lost one of hers either.

Dima was still flushing and kept his lips pressed tightly together, so Felix poked him in the cheek.

“Come on, show me!”

Hesitantly, Dima grinned again and Felix looked at the gap between his teeth, leaning close to get a better look. He couldn’t see any trace of the adult teeth Sylvain had bragged about, so he frowned in concentration. 

Suddenly, something pink poked through Dima’s tooth gap and Felix jerked back in surprise, losing his balance on flopping onto the bed. Then Dima started giggling, Felix flushed as he realized what his best friend had done. 

“Dima!” he pouted, but his friend only laughed harder, causing Felix to huff and roll his eyes, but he did not try to make him stop. Eventually, Dima stopped laughing and sat up again, his hair still a mess.

“Sorry, Felix,” he said teasingly and stuck out his tongue properly. Felix returned the gesture, making Dima giggle again. Whatever else they could have said was interrupted by the gurgling of Felix’s stomach. Instead of laughing, Dima grinned at him, but Felix got the message just as well. He puffed out his cheek and avoided his friend’s eyes. 

“Hungry, Felix?”

Felix ignored him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks and his ears were burning. Dima giggled and threw back the blanket.

“Come on then, let us go and find something to eat. I am sure the cooks will not mind us having a small snack,” he said and climbed down from the bed. He was not actually wearing his sleeping clothes, but instead his everyday wear without the jacket. Right now his clothes were looking a little crumbled, but Felix’s own probably did as well. 

“Come on,” Dima said, and grinned at Felix. Felix quickly scrambled out of the bed and put on his shoes. At the door, Dima held out his hand for him to take like he always did. Like always, Felix took his hand. And then, before his very eyes, as Dima’s fingers closed around Felix’s own, he watched as the blue color bloomed on his hands. Felix smiled and followed his soulmate out of the room. 

(Later that evening, when Felix looked into the mirror before dinner, father and Glenn always told him to check his appearance before appearing in public, he spotted the blue streaks in his hair, and a line tracing his left cheekbone where Dima had brushed his cheek. A smile unwittingly found its way onto his face. Suddenly, he didn’t even mind the itchy formal clothes anymore.) 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix decided against telling his father and brother, maybe he would if they told him about their own soulmates, but otherwise he would keep it to himself, just like his mother had told him too. He did not think that it would be dangerous for him or anyone else if his family knew about it, but Felix was not going to be the one who shared his secret first. He could keep secrets too. Even if he itched to tell Dima the truth, more and more with every meeting, especially, because Dima did not seem to know. So every time the feeling grew stronger, Felix reminded himself of how happy and delighted he had been when his mother had helped him figure out that Dima was his soulmate. He would never want to take something so great from Dima. 

Days passed, weeks passed, months passed, and years too, and Felix’s resolve held firm.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The first true tragedy in Felix’s life was the death of his mother. Matilda Fraldarius had been sickly since the birth of her second son, but even then, suffering from the illness that had ravaged the whole kingdom, she had struggled on. She had lived long enough to have an impact on both of her son’s lives. So of course, her death would as well.

Felix had never known his mother when she was healthy. He did not have stories to tell about riding horses with her, or how she had put his first sword in his hands with a wink and a smile. Glenn had those. And for the first time in his life, Felix was genuinely jealous of his brother. It felt like he only got to know a small part of the amazing woman his mother had been, while everyone else had known her better.

The week was supposed to have been great. Sylvain was going to be visiting and Glenn had said that they could go adventuring in the woods together. Instead, his mother was dead and everything was terrible.

Felix knew that his mother had been more tired recently. She had come out of her rooms less often, and when they visited her she sometimes fell asleep while talking. Their father had rarely left her side.

But she wasn’t supposed to have died. Mothers weren’t supposed to do that. But all his wishing and hoping changed nothing.

Father let them into the room to say their goodbyes. The priest came to prepare the body. She was dressed in her favorite clothes—and her cuff firm around her wrist—and her favorite glass figurine, thought it was a lumpen misshapen thing (a present from her sister) was placed in her hand. They placed her in the entrance hall so people could pay their respects to the much-loved lady.

Felix did not want to leave his room. Did not want to hear all the apologies and condolences. And it seemed like, for once, him, his father and brother were all on the same page.

None of them enjoyed what was happening around them, but they did their duty, all the same, standing in the entrance hall and receiving their guests. It was terrible, and even their father’s smile could be described as wooden at best.

Then Margrave Gautier and his sons arrived, and at last, their father relieved Glenn and him from their obligation.

Glenn led them into one of the receiving rooms of the castle, and instead of the gazes of all the mourners, he only had to deal with Sylvain’s worried look. Miklan, like always, ignored him.

Eventually, Miklan broke the silence, “You should have been prepared for that. The duchess had been hanging on by a thread for years now.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, but that did not diminish the impact of his words.

Glenn stiffened and looked at the oldest, his lips pressed into a thin line. Felix, however, broke into tears, and ran from the room, ignoring the suddenly angry voices behind him.

It was Sylvain who eventually found him, hiding behind the blackberry bushes. Usually, Felix was glad when Sylvain was around when he was upset because the other boy always knew how to make him feel better, but today he did not want to feel better.

His mother was dead, and it was terrible.

“Go away.” He sniffed.

“I don’t think so.” Sylvain’s voice was even, and he crawled through the holes in the bushes to join Felix in his hidey-hole. Felix turned his back on him, but Sylvain wasn’t deterred. Instead, the older boy sat down next to him and waited in silence. It was Felix who broke first.

“My mama is dead,” Felix knew he sounded like a baby, but right then he could not bring himself to care.

“I know. “ Sylvain responded.

Suddenly, Felix was absolutely furious. He knew? How could he know? Felix's mother wasn’t his mother, and no mother was as great as Matilda Fraldarius.

He whirled around and glared at his friend. Opened his mouth to shout at him and-

Then he remembered. Felix closed his mouth and sniffed as his fury deserted him, leaving only misery behind.

Sylvain’s mother had died last year. And while she hadn’t been as great as Felix’s mother. She had been Sylvain’s, and maybe, just maybe, his friend understood how terrible it was to lose a mother. “I miss her.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain agreed, “I know.” the other boy’s voice broke, and Felix sniffed before throwing himself into the arms that opened easily to welcome him, and closed around him in a firm and comforting hug.

“I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.” Felix sobbed the words slurring together. “She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to live.” He tried to take a deep breath, but choked halfway through, “I don’t like this. It’s horrible. I miss her. I want her back.”

The tears continued, and Sylvain’s arms remained firm around him. “I miss my mama.” Through it all, Sylvain did not move. He remained steady as a rock and let Felix pour out his tears into his shoulder. He did not complain when Felix’s snot smeared in his shirt, he did not grimace or interrupt him. He simply stayed. Eventually, Felix’s sobs slowed down.

“Well,” Sylvain said eventually, his arm a comforting weight around Felix’s shoulder, “how about we make a promise then?”

“A promise?” Felix sniffed and looked up at him. Sylvain nodded. “Yeah, that if we have to die, we die together, that way we won’t have to miss each other. And until then, we’ll be friends.”

Felix thought for a moment, then he nodded, the feeling of being left behind was the most terrible thing he had ever felt. “Yeah, dying together sounds better. It’s a promise.”

Sylvain squeezed his shoulder again and the two of them smiled at each other. Felix felt a little better, knowing that he would not have to miss one of his friends like he would miss his mother.

“I, “ A voice said from behind them and the two of them turned around to come face to face with Glenn, who was on his knees crawling towards them. For once, Glenn too looked like he had been crying, though now he looked mostly irritated. “Hope that you plan on living first. Because I just lost my mother, and I would prefer for my friend and little brother to stick around for a long time.” His voice was tense.

Felix scrubbed at his eyes. Just because he could see that Glenn had been crying too, did not mean that Felix wanted to cry in front of him right now. He did not want Glenn to look as pained and helpless at the sight of his tears as their father had when they first got told that their mother was gone.

“Of course.” he sniffed in response, “Otherwise the promise is just stupid.”

Beside him, Sylvain nodded, though his eyes flickered to the space behind Glenn. Thankfully, it seemed like Felix’s brother had come without Miklan. If Felix saw him right now, he would punch him with all his might.

Sylvain grinned, “You too Glenn. If we have to die, let's do it together.”

Glenn looked at Sylvain for a moment. “Only if there is no other way. First, we have to live.”

Something passed between the two older boys, but Felix did not understand and he was too tired from his crying to try.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Sadly, the Gautiers left in the evening, and while Felix was glad to see Miklan go—forever if possible—he wished Sylvain could stay. It had been good to have a person around who understood, but at the same time did not grieve as deeply as he did.

The next, even more welcome, set of visitors arrived on the next day, however.

Felix, Glenn, and their father were taking a quiet and subdued meal in one of the smaller, more private dining rooms when a messenger burst in. The man looked apologetic but insistent. And in the quiet of the room, all of them heard it when he announced that the banners of the king had been sighted approaching Fraldarius.

After that, things got a bit hectic. Even though the royal entourage was still some time away, and—at least according to reports, much smaller than it should be—rooms needed to be prepared, and the household needed to be arranged.

His father, Felix noted, seemed a lot happier now that he had something to distract himself with, while Glenn hid away in his room. This left Felix to wander the castle alone. He snuck into his mother’s room and gazed around. It was eerie that the room still looked like Matilda Fraldarius could walk back in at any moment. Even the flowers on the table were still fresh. Felix and Glenn had picked them for her. Felix could not bring himself to stay long, so he left the room again quickly.

He stayed out of sight, unwilling to be polite or even talk to any of the servants or knights, and this gave him a chance to overhear some of the gossip going around the castle.

Miklan Gautier was an unpleasant young man—this wasn’t news to Felix.

Young Lord Glenn had taken to destroying training dummies—Felix wished Glenn would spend more time with him.

Duke Fraldarius had gotten furious and fired a maid who he had overheard asking if they could take some of the ladies old clothes - good.

Felix also overhead some servants gossiping, that for the king to be about to arrive already, he must have left nearly the minute the news reached the capitol. The friendship between him and the duke must be strong indeed for him to leave the royal court behind to stand by his friend.

Felix… did not really care, even if talk of friendship reminded him of Dima. he looked down at his hand, and the blue traces still visible and could not help but hope that king Lambert would bring his friend.

The king’s entourage arrived quickly.

“Your Majesty, my prince,” his father intoned formally and bowed, his household following along, as the king’s party rode into the courtyard. “Welcome to Fraldarius, we are honored by your presence.”

The king dismounted from his horse and waved for all of them to rise. He was clad in understated riding clothes, a black band of mourning wrapped around his arm. But Felix's attention left the king easily at the sight of Dimitri behind him. His friend looked tired and a bit ruffled, his cheeks red from the wind. Uncharacteristically, the prince seemed nervous and made no signs of hiding it, instead, he seemed to be chewing on his lip, a bad habit that he had been trying hard to break.

Dimitri stuck to his father’s side as the King made his way over to where they were standing, but his gaze landed on Felix; it did not leave him again. Felix didn’ know why, but he found himself blinking back another wave of tears. He wanted to run up to Dima and get hugged tightly in the way only his friend could, but Glenn’s hand on his shoulder held him in place.

“Please,” The King’s voice was calm and subdued, not booming and carrying like it usually was, “Rodrigue, there is no need for that. I am not here as your king, but as your friend.” he paused, then quieter so the listeners would not be able to hear, “And if my presence right now, is a burden, tell me, and I will let you have your peace. I am not here to make things harder for you.”

They looked at each other king to duke, but not really, not then, with King Lambert’s hand resting on Felix’s father’s shoulder,

Felix could see the moment his father’s shoulders sagged and some of his weight rested against the king who held up upright easily.

“No,” his father’s voice was barely a whisper, “please.” then, “Stay,” a deep breath, “Thank you, Lambert.”

Somehow, seeing such vulnerability from his father made Felix feel terribly small.

“Come on,” his father said much less formal than before, “let’s get inside.” He dismissed his household back to their duties, and the king waved away his entourage with a stern gesture. As soon as they were allowed to move, Dima was by Felix's side and his arms around him. Felix could smell the familiar scent of his soap and burrowed into the warm embrace. He felt the king’s hand ruffle his hair and dimly registered that people were talking around him, but didn’t pay much attention to it, instead he listened to the steady beating of his friend’s heart and let himself be held, even as they were herded into the castle.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

For once, his father did not even bother keeping up the pretense of assigning the prince his own room. One had been prepared of course, but there was no comment when Dimitri dragged his own bags into Felix's room to stay with him, nor did anyone complain when Glenn decided to join them as well. That night the three of them slept in the same bed, Felix in the middle, wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms, and Glenn hugging them both close to him. It was almost too warm, but the comfort it provided was soothing enough that Felix did not even think about complaining.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The next day when he dressed himself, he caught sight of his shoulders and back in the mirror. All of it colored in blue. On his arms, he could make out stripes where Dima’s arms had been wrapped around it. On his neck, the shape of Dima’s nose and forehead. It was as if his soulmate was hugging him even now.

A comfort that brought tears to his eyes all over again. And for the first time since his mother had died, Felix found himself smiling. It was weak and shaky, but a smile all the same.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The older they got, however, the less close they seemed to be allowed to be. The blue that had sometimes covered Felix head to toe, disappeared, and more often than not the blue on him had a more powdery quality that came from brief touches. Even his hands, rarely ever, were truly blue. It was his shoulders that generally had the most color, as Dima had taken to leaning their shoulders together when they were sitting, instead of holding his hand.

He missed it, the comfort of it, the familiarity, the sense of belonging, but he accepted it all the same. They were growing up, he was told, it wasn’t proper he insisted. The prince—the future king—had to be a model of propriety.

And so Felix could no longer hold Dima’s hand when they walked through the castle or the town. Even the nickname, so well-loved and often used, had to give way to formality, but here at least, Felix retained the right to address the crown prince by name, rather than title. But his Dima had to become Dimitri all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Travel in Faerghus was rarely pleasant, and even the most well-preserved road from Fraldarius to Fhirdiad could be a chore when the weather was bad. Yet, Felix forgot all about the hard journey when they neared castle Charon, and he could see the banner of house Blaiddyd flying above the ramparts.

When his father had asked him if he wanted to come along to the monastery with him and visit Glenn, while Rodrigue oversaw some kingdom business, Felix had been ecstatic. Glenn had been gone for months already, longer even than the time he had squired for Thunderstrike Cassandra. At least then, Felix had been able to visit him or have his brother come to visit.

His mood improved further when his father informed him that Dimitri would come with them as well. Apparently, the prince had been training with Ser Gustave and would meet up with them on the way. His father told him that it was an honor, but Felix was glad just to see Dimitri again. They had not seen each other for some weeks, and maybe that had contributed to the feeling that the journey to Charon seemed to take forever as well. Castle Charon was smaller than Castle Blaiddyd or Castle Fraldarius, not as high as them either, but with thick walls that not only protected the inhabitants from attacks, but also from the harsh weather at the foot of the Oghma mountains. Like most castles in Faerghus, some might even consider it a minor fortress that could withstand a siege.

Dimitri wasn’t waiting in the courtyard for them, but Lord Charon and his eldest daughter Cassandra were. Consequently, Felix had to be polite and not look like he wanted to leave, while his father and the Lord exchanged pleasantries. Instead of looking around for Dimitri, something his father would most certainly not appreciate, he studied Cassandra.

Glenn had said that she was the coolest woman he had ever met. Really, really strong and a great swordswoman. Felix found it a bit stupid that Glenn got to squire under her and not Felix himself after all Glenn preferred using a lance, while Felix was going to be a swordmaster.

Cassandra, like Felix himself, did not seem all that interested in the pleasantries of the adults, even if Felix supposed she would be counted as an adult as well. Instead, she was looking into the middle distance, a bland smile on her face, and her fingers soundlessly drumming along the hilt of her sword. She did seem to feel his gaze, however, as she looked down at him and winked.

Felix flushed at being caught staring but forced himself not to look away, even as his skin crawled uncomfortably. He was pretty sure that Cassandra was amused, but she continued their staring contest. It was his father who, likely unknowingly, saved him from the contest that was causing Felix rising distress.

Lord Charon had them lead to some prepared rooms. Apparently, they would spend the night here before departing in the morning. Felix didn’t much care for the specifics. He just wanted to see Dimitri, and maybe see Cassandra use the Thunderbrand, or just see her fight. Preferably, where she could not see him.

Thankfully, he did not have to share a room with his father, who had spent the journey reminding him again and again to mind his propriety both with the Lords they visited, as well as at the monastery, and also Prince Dimitri. At the age of twelve, Felix would start squiring soon, but by now Felix did not want to squire under Cassandra anymore, he just knew she would be someone who would call him a crybaby. And while his father approved of his friendship with Dimitri, and was glad that they got along so well, it was not proper to run up to the crown prince and give him a hug in public. Felix found the last part especially stupid, not only because he knew Dimitri really liked hugs, but also because King Lambert was prone to hugging his father as well whenever they met. So if his father had told him not to run to Dimitri, maybe he would have considered it, but unless Dimitri (or King Lambert, Felix supposed) told him not to do it, Felix would do whatever he liked.

In the rooms they were given, a bath had already been prepared for them. Felix was glad for it because he smelled like a horse. The tub in Felix’s room was fairly small, just big enough for him to bath himself, which he happily did. 

It was only late afternoon, and his father had told him he would come to get him when it was time to eat dinner with their host. Rodrigue had also instructed him not to wander the castle in search of the prince, as he was probably training with Ser Gustave. Felix had grudgingly agreed.

He was in the process of washing his hair when someone knocked on his door. Tempted to tell the person to go away, Felix put down the soap, but then a familiar voice called out. “Felix? Can I come in?” It was Dimitri, and Felix found himself grinning. He didn't have to search for Dimitri if Dimitri came to find him.

“Yes, come in. I’m still in the bath,” he had to speak loudly to make sure Dimitri heard him, but the sound of the door opening made him continue at a quieter volume. “Sit down, I’ll hurry up.”

The bathtub was behind a screen that had been set up in part of the room, to give some privacy, but it also made it impossible to see the door. He heard steps and then the sound of someone sitting down on the mattress.

“Did you just arrive?” He heard Dimitri ask from behind the screen. Felix hummed in agreement, but, unsure if his friend had heard him he elaborated, “Yes, though father and Lord Charon talked forever while standing in the courtyard.”

Dimitri chuckled. He had started doing that instead of laughing some time ago, and Felix wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It was a nice sound, but he also missed Dima’s snorting laugh.

“Ser Gustave and I arrived yesterday. I was really glad to see a castle again,” a pause then Dimitri continued, “did you know we would be meeting up? Ser Gustave only told me shortly before our arrival yesterday.” From the way Dimitri was talking, Felix could tell that he was excited. Dimitri tended to speak faster and the melody of his speech changed when he was excited.

“Father told me two weeks ago.” He imagined Dimitri might be pouting at that and found himself grinning.

It was a bit strange having Dimitri in his room while he was taking a bath, so Felix attempted to speed up the process. When they were little kids, he and Dimitri had sometimes taken baths together when they had made a mess playing outside, but that was years behind them now. They weren’t little kids anymore. However, his hair refused to cooperate and the suds just kept clinging to his hair. Each time Felix attempted to use water to wash them out and then checked with his hand to see if they were gone, he found suds on it. Felix grumbled and bit back some curses. The tub was too small for him to dunk himself without making a mess of the floor and that would be bad manners. And he could not lift too much water with the bucket that had been provided because it was too heavy.

“Felix? Is everything alright?”

Caught up in his grumbling Felix had not heard the footsteps approaching the screen and he jumped in his seat when he came face to face with his friend. “What?”

Dimitri grinned sheepishly at him from where he leaned around the screen. “Hello.” he waved, and Felix found himself smiling back at him.

“Hey, Dima,” Felix said in return and flopped back against the wall of the tub. Felix had a moment of hesitation, after all, he had agreed to drop the childish nickname. But that faded when he looked at his friend. The prince’s smile had become more honest but gained a shade of teasing. Knowing Dimitri, he had spotted the suds in Felix’s hair, though he acted like he didn’t and repeated his question.

“Is everything alright?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” he answered flatly and gestured to his head.

Dimitri giggled, a sound much more familiar than his new chuckle. “Need some help?”

Felix grappled with himself, but eventually, one of the soap subs made the choice for him when it slit down from the top to his head into his eyes. He cursed and slapped his hand to his face to wipe them away. It did not really improve his situation as his fingers were also still soapy. He was so preoccupied that he did not notice that Dimitri had decided to take his struggling as a sign that he did indeed need help. Felix only realized this when Dimitri grabbed him by the wrist that was still rubbing at this eye and pulled it away. Surprised, Felix was left to blink up at him from stinging and watery eyes. 

Dimitri was smiling slightly. He released Felix’s wrist and raised his hand gesturing towards Felix’s face. “Let me?”

“I’m not a baby,” Felix complained, but he did not pull away when Dimitri raised his hand towards his face. However, instead of his own hand, Dimitri used his sleeve to wipe the suds from Felix's eyes. It was a relief to finally get rid of the stinging, but he still felt embarrassed and knew he was blushing again. Dimitri noticed it too because he laughed. “You are blushing all over, Felix.”

If anything that probably made him blush harder and wish to sink down in the tub.

“You do not need to be embarrassed,“ Dimitri told him, “Once after training, I needed help like this too. Glenn had to help me.” He emphasized his brother's name.

“Did he make fun of you?”

Dimitri giggled, still wiping some suds from Felix’s face, “No, he didn’t. He was very helpful.”

Felix laughed, “I guess there are some advantages to being the prince.” Dimitri’s movements paused for a moment, “Glenn being helpful for one.” It wasn’t quite true, Glenn was plenty helpful to Felix as well, he just went about it differently. In Felix's case, he would tease first, then help, while for Dimitri it was help first, then tease later.

Dimitri only nodded in agreement, a strange look on his face.

“Dima?”

His friend just shrugged, and grinned at him, the strange look replaced by amusement, “It’s nothing, Felix. Would you like some help with your hair?”

Despite being sure that it was not, in fact, nothing, Felix nodded hesitantly, unsure how to get Dimitri to tell him what was bothering him, because something obviously was. That had been Dimitri’s I’m-bothered-but-not-going-to-tell-you- look.

“Yes, please.” Felix could feel himself flushing. First the bubbles and now this, he wasn’t a little kid anymore, and it was just a bit embarrassing to need help like this. At least it was Dimitri and not Glenn or his father. He just wished Dimitri would let him help with whatever was bothering him too.

This time the grin was real.

“Alright,” Dimitri said, took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Unlike Felix, Dimitri had no trouble lifting the heavy wooden bucket, with or without water inside of it. Felix felt a bit jealous, he wished he could be strong like that too, maybe then people would stop teasing him about being a crybaby.

“Close your eyes,” Dimitri instructed as he held the bucket over Felix's head, who did as he was told. There was a short pause, probably Dimitri checking if he had followed the instruction before the bucket was emptied over his head. The water was still warm, not as warm as it was when Felix got into the tub, but warm enough to be comfortable.

When Felix heard the sound of the bucket being set down he deemed it safe enough to open his eyes again. There was some water in his lashes so he had to blink a couple of times.

“Is it all gone?” he asked his friend, turning his head to look at him. Dimitri furrowed his brow in concentration and then carded his fingers through Felix’s wet hair. When he pulled it away there were still some bubbles on his fingers. Sighting in frustration, Felix flopped back against the back of the tub.

Dimitri chuckled, it still sounded strange to Felix. “Do not worry Felix, I will help you get them out.”

“Thanks.”

His friend lifted the filled bucket again and gestured for Felix to lean forward, Dimitri changed his grip on the bucket, holding it with one hand and poured some water over Felix’s head. Felix would never be able to hold the bucket with one hand. Again Dimitri carded his fingers through Felix’s hair to check, again he raised the bucket. The process repeated numerous times, maybe Felix should have been less throughout when he washed his hair.

Still, it felt nice to have Dimitri’s fingers carding through his hair. His mother used to do that sometimes when she helped him wash his hair. But Felix was much too old for that now, and his mother was dead.

Intent on getting rid of those thoughts, Felix thought of another topic to talk about.

“How was training?” he asked, and if his voice sounded strange, Dimitri was kind enough not to mention it. Instead, he hummed, seemingly in consideration.

“Exhausting.” Dimitri eventually said, “I had to run through the mountains in full plate armor, and carry around a tree trunk.”

Yes, Felix was never going to be that strong. The training sounded crazy. And here Felix had been thinking his father and his knights were harsh taskmasters.

“The king agreed to that?” Dimitri paused for a moment, tugged lightly on Felix’s hair, and then, to his surprise he sounded like he choked back a giggle. When Felix turned around he was indeed grinning widely.

“What’s so funny?”

“My father said that it sounded like a step up from what he had to do.” Dimitri’s eyes were sparkling. Felix loved seeing him happy.

“What did he have to do?” Felix asked because it was clear that Dimitri was just itching to tell him.

“He had to carry around your father.” Felix paused and tried to imagine it. Both his father and the King were tall men, and the sight alone of King Lambert with his father on his shoulder like a tree trunk would be amusing. However, if Dimitri was doing the same training as the king had, that meant that King Lambert had been Prince Lambert and a little boy back then. And his father, Felix remembered, was actually three years older than the king. It would be more like Dimitri carrying around tall and lanky Glenn.

A snort escaped him. Glenn would not have been amused and instead would have struggled like a feral cat. Felix could hardly imagine his father, who always appeared dignified and in control, in such a situation.

“Exactly,” Dimitri exclaimed, grin still wide, “Gustave said that Glenn was absent, and you would help me rather than hinder me, so a tree trunk would be better.”

Maybe Ser Gustave wasn’t all bad, at least he seemed to have realized that Felix was always on Dima’s side.

But Dimitri wasn’t finished. “Though Gustave also added that maybe he should ask Rodrigue if he would volunteer again! Father said no, but can you imagine that?”

At this point, the prince was laughing loudly, and Felix could not help but join in. He wondered what would have happened if the king had agreed. Would Dimitri have lugged his father through the mountains? Probably with Felix following behind? What a story that would have been to tell to Glenn!

Eventually, they calmed down, though they would giggle again, whenever their eyes met. Dimitri’s hand returned to Felix’s hair and he carded his fingers through it, occasionally scooping up some water to pour over it. Though quite sure that he was soap-free already, Felix said nothing and enjoyed the feel of Dimitri’s fingers on his scalp.

“Your hair has gotten a lot longer,” Dimitri eventually commented, twirling a strand of the dark hair around his finger. Felix hummed in agreement. He had started growing it out after his mother had died, and refused to have it cut more than necessary ever since.

After a moment, Dimitri released the strand of hair, it fell down to Felix’s collarbone and wetly stuck to it. When Felix gazed down he could see that it was in part dyed in Dimitri’s blue. What that meant for the rest of his hair, he would probably find out later. 

“I think the suds are gone now,“ Dimitri said and walked around Felix to make sure he did not miss anything. The suds had likely been gone for a while now, given that Dima had simply been playing with his hair, but Felix wasn’t going to point that out.

“Thanks,” Felix said and got out of the water to reach for his towel. His friend chuckled and stepped around the screen again to give him some privacy. Felix toweled off quickly. Despite it being in the warmer part of the year, the rooms were never quite warm, and it wasn't yet time to light the fireplaces. As he was toweling his hair he spotted Dimitri’s jacket still lying on the floor far away from the tub, so it would not get wet. Felix rolled his eyes as his friend’s forgetfulness and picked it up as he made his way around the screen as well.

Dimitri was sitting cross-legged on Felix's bed, his boots on the floor next to the bed. There was a frown on the prince’s face and he was staring somewhere into the distance. Felix wondered if he was brooding about the same thing that had soured his mood earlier.

“Hey,” Felix said to catch his attention and held up the jacket. His response was a sheepish smile and an outstretched arm. With a roll of his eyes and a grin, Felix threw the jacked over to him and watched with amusement as it hit Dimitri in the face.

“Really, Felix?” he complained, “Could you not just have handed it to me?” There was something plaintive in Dimitri’s tone that only made Felix’s smile widen.

“Maybe,” he drawled and made his way over to the saddlebags still leaning against the bed where Felix had left them. Even after he had patted his hair somewhat dry with the towel it was still quite wet. Not as wet as it could have been, given that he had spent some time just sitting in the water while Dimitri played with his hair, but wet all the same. And if he didn’t take care of it now, he was going to have trouble later. Felix would also prefer to avoid his father’s look should he arrive at dinner with his hair still a mess.

He found his brush easily enough. It used to be his mother’s and he had been touched when his father had given it to him after he started growing out his hair. Thankfully, the room he had been provided with also had a small hand mirror. Felix grabbed it, before he removed the towel from his hair, and let it rest around his shoulders so his shirt would stay dry. Then he sat down on the bed next to Dimitri. The first part of combing his hair was always the most troublesome one, especially when he—as he did most of the time—had toweled off his hair quite roughly causing even more snarls and tangles.

“Here,” He held the mirror out to Dimitri, “ could you hold that for me?”

It wasn’t really necessary, as he only needed to check in the mirror at the end, but it gave Dimitri something to do.

“Of course, Felix.” Dimitri scooted around on the bed, so he sat more properly before Felix, facing him, the mirror in his hands. “How high do you need it?”

Felix shrugged, “It’s fine like this for now, I’ll tell you if you need to lift it higher.”

Dimitri nodded, and Felix started brushing. As he did so, he could both feel and see Dimitri watch him, following the motion of the brush both with his eyes. He seemed fascinated. Which was frankly ridiculous. Felix’s hair went barely past his shoulders and it wasn’t anything special.

After a while, the attention started making him uncomfortable. “What is it?” he broke the silence, addressing the prince, “Is there something wrong?” He grabbed for the mirror still in Dimitri’s hand and forced him by the wrist to hold it higher. Everything looked normal. He dropped Dimitri’s wrist.

“Oh no, that is not it, “ Dimitri assured him, blushing slightly. As the prince, Felix knew, he had been told that staring was rude, “It’s just that I really like your hair color. It’s so different from other people in Fearghus.”

“Oh,” Felix had not been expecting that. He wasn’t all that fond of his hair color after all. The only people he knew shared it were his brother, father, uncle. The latter two had inherited it from their mother who had been a native of Dagda. While hair like his wasn’t completely unknown in Fodlan, in Fearghus light hair was much more common. “It’s just hair I guess.”

Dimitri laughed. “True, but it is a nice color.” he was still holding the mirror so that Felix could see his own hair. Felix looked. His hair was dark like his brother’s and father’s, but what really caught his attention when he looked at it right now, was that between the dark blue strands, there were flashes of bright Blaiddyd blue where Dimitri had touched his hair. The contrast between the two shades was rather striking.

“I guess it’s okay,” Felix said, knowing they were not talking quite about the same thing. Felix went back to brushing. By now he had gotten rid of most of the big snarls, so it was less troublesome. Across from him, Dimitri started to fidget. Felix looked at him, “You can drop the mirror if you like.”

“Ah, no,” Dimitri said, but carefully set down the mirror on the bed, “That is not… I mean—”

He paused, shifted his weight, and met Felix's gaze head-on. Felix managed to hold it for a second before he looked away.

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Can I brush your hair?” It was an unexpected question.

Felix looked at his friend, then down at the brush, and shrugged. He shrugged and held out the brush.

“Sure, but be careful with the brush, it was my mother’s.”

Dimitri took the brush from him carefully, holding it like it was something fragile and easily breakable. That wasn’t really the case, but then again most people did not have Dimitri’s strength, and Felix would rather that he was too careful.

Felix grabbed the mirror so it would not accidentally fall to the ground and turned around, presenting Dimitri with his back.

“There shouldn’t really be any snags in there anymore, so as long as you go slowly and carefully it will be fine.”

Dimitri hummed and raised the brush. There was an intense look of concentration in his eyes. When he started brushing, however, Felix found himself rolling his eyes. He couldn’t even feel it.

“You are supposed to brush it, not just let the brush hover over the hair, Dima.”

“Sorry,” the prince sounded sheepish,” I have never done this before, and you did say to be careful.”

Felix decided not to tell him off for that, he meant well after all, and as soon as Felix had complained, Dimitri’s performance improved. Why he had to card his fingers through the hair trailing the brush, Felix did not know, but the occasional scratch of Dimitri’s nails on his head felt nice, so he wasn’t going to complain.

Watching it in the mirror was fascinating to watch as well. Wherever Dimitri’s hands went the blue followed, and bit by bit, more and more of Felix’s hair changed its color. While he did so, he asked Dimitri more about his training with Ser Gustave. Had he seen something interesting? What had he learned? Dimitri answered the questions and returned some on his own. It was pleasant and nice. He had missed his friend in the weeks they had been separated.

As it turned out, having another person brush his hair, especially when it wasn’t Glenn who always kept tugging at it and making quips at Felix’s expense, was very nice and relaxing. Eventually, combined with the heaviness he still felt after the bath, Felix found himself getting more and more sleepy. Dimitri seemed to notice it as well, because he let the conversation taper off, and simply continued his brushing in silence.

That’s how Rodrigue found them in the evening when he came to fetch Felix for dinner. Felix asleep while sitting, leaning slightly forward, elbows on his knees, and Dimitri beside him, hands carding through dark hair, and the brush placed carefully on the bed next to him.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

From the image he had seen on the map, Felix had expected Garreg Mach Monastery to be a lot smaller. Then again, he always misjudged the traveling times as well when he looked at maps, he should not be surprised to misjudge sizes as well. 

Riding through the gates of the monastery, after riding through town, was a rather intimidating experience. The moment Felix passed the gates, the only thing he could see was the monastery building in front of him, stretching up into the sky. Next to him, Dimitri straightened in his saddle as well. 

Unlike when they arrived in Fhirdiad or Fraldarius there was no welcoming committee, only a stable groom who received their horses. Neither Rodrigue nor Ser Gustave who had come with them seemed surprised or offended by this. Instead, Rodrigue smoothly dismounted his horse, handed the reins to the stable hand, and waited for the rest of his party to do the same.

“Ahh, Garreg Mach, how nostalgic.” the duke said as Felix and Dimitri walked up to him. Felix noted that he moved much more stiffly than the prince, but then again, Dimitri enjoyed riding, while Felix considered it a necessity at best. 

Rodrigue smiled at them. 

“What do you think of your first sight of the monastery?” he inquired and made a gesture with his arm that invited them to look.

“It’s big.” Felix blurted out before he could think of something smarter to say. Then again, his father had asked for his first impression. Dimitri hummed in agreement, but added something that sounded a lot smarter, “It looks more like a fortress than a church.”

Felix blinked as he considered that. The prince was right. In fact, the monastery did not look like a church at all. 

Rodrigue nodded, “Yes, it is the headquarters of the knights of Seiros as well, and in times of crisis the people form the nearby towns take refuge here.”

As he spoke his father led them away from the stables towards a big hall. A guard stationed at the door gave them a keen look, but he seemed to recognize Felix’s father and let them pass without further comment. Rodrigue guided them through the hall, up the stairs and out into a garden area, and then into what appeared to be a reception hall. 

“Wait here for me,” Rodrigue instructed them, “by the time my business is done, the classes will be over, and we can go and have some tea with Glenn.”

Felix had hoped that they could wait together with Glenn, but it seemed like his brother was still attending his lectures. Instead, they had to wait in the receiving hall with Ser Gustave while his father went to do his business. They should have ridden slower, Felix decided, that way he would not only be less sore, he would also not have to wait around.

They took a seat at one of the tables and Felix looked around. Though the hall was grand like castle Fhirdiad, the people walking around in it were very different.

“There are lots of priests and nuns,” Felix said to Dimitri in an undertone. The prince nodded, “It is the church, so I suppose it makes sense. I expected more knights of Seiros, however, did you as well Felix?”

Felix had, and he told him so.

Behind them, Ser Gustave who was standing guard shifted. “While the headquarters of the Knights of Seiros is the monastery. A great number of them are always sent across Fodlan to help and protect the faithful.”

Dimitri nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

Felix disliked his private conversations not being private. So he turned away and went back to watching people.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Glenn was less enthused to see them than Felix would have liked, but then, he generally seemed to be in a bad mood. At first Rodrigue tolerated the snappish responses he got, but eventually even Rodrigue had enough. They were sitting in the monastery garden and were supposed to be enjoying cakes and tea together. Well, except for Felix who just had tea, Dimitri didn’t mind eating his slice of cake as well. 

Rodrigue straightened in his chair, and his presence changed. Felix automatically straightened and removed his elbows from the table. Next to him, Dimitri, his face stuffed with cake, did the same. 

“What has you in such a deplorable mood that you cannot even be polite to your brother and prince Dimitri when they specifically come to see you?”

Glenn froze. He too had straightened.

Then he slumped.

“Urg,” he carded a hand through his hair, “It’s not like that.” he shot Dimitri and Felix an apologetic look. “I am glad to see you.” he did not sound it, but he had said it, and Glenn rarely said things he did not mean, not even when their father wanted him to. Dimitri knew this as well, it was obvious in the way he happily smiled back at Glenn. He looked like one of the small rodents Felix had seen in one of the animal books, and Felix wanted to poke his cake stuffed cheeks. 

“It’s just,” Glenn let out a deep sigh, ”I got volunteered for the White Heron Cup.”

Their father’s smile which had returned after Glenn’s earlier words suddenly seemed strained.

“Ah, I see.” Rodrigue cleared his throat, ”It seems my son,” he told Glenn gravely, “that you too have not managed to escape the curse of house Fraldarius.”

Felix blinked, unsure what his father was referring to. Since when was their house cursed? Curious, he looked back and forth between his father, still somber, and Glenn who frankly looked like he had been promised something sweet—Glenn really liked sweet things—and instead got to eat cardboard paper. 

Obviously, they were having a conversation that Felix wasn’t privy to. He chanced a glance to the side, but Dimitri looked confused as well, so it was probably alright.

“You have to be joking.” Glenn’s voice sounded flat. 

“Would I joke about something like this?” There was some humor in his father’s tone, but his face had not changed. 

“Probably,” Glenn answered him, and Rodrigue’s lips twitched. He chuckled.

“Probably.” Rodrigue agreed, “but not this time, I’m afraid. I, too, got graciously volunteered to represent the Blue Lions in the white heron cup.” A pause and Felix’s brain scrambled to imagine his father dancing. Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, the Shield of Fearghus, did not dance. He spent balls gracefully flowing around the room and keeping everyone at their best behavior, with mean looks and seemingly kind smiles. However, his father wasn’t finished. “Naturally, I won.”

It was a challenge that both Felix and Glenn understood. Glenn straightened, and Felix noticed that he was almost as tall as their father now. It was unfair, Felix still fit into his clothes from last year.

“So will I.” Glenn declared.

Felix watched as his father and brother looked each other straight into the eye. 

“Naturally.” Rodrigue finally agreed, and Glenn nodded, pleased. 

“Marvelous!” an enthusiastic voice broke in. “So the Blue Lion house will have its champion. And here I was, worrying I would have to settle for second best!”

Something on Glenn’s face curdled and Felix could not hold back his smile, next to him, he heard Dimitri quietly chuckle. 

The woman who approached them was quite pretty, with brown hair and a wide smile, though she wore a rather risque outfit. 

Glenn grimaced. “Professor Manuela.”

“Glenn,” the woman—apparently a professor!—returned cheerfully. “I am so glad you changed your mind.”

Glenn’s grimace got even more exaggerated. 

Their father chuckled and Professor Manuela’s attention turned to him.

Rodrigue rose from his seat, presented her with a half bow, and gave her a charming smile. “Professor Manuela, I presume? It’s a pleasure. My son wrote to me that you were the professor supervising the Blue lions this year.” 

Professor Manuela returned his bow with a well-practiced curtsey, she had an air of elegance and glamour around her that most ladies at court would envy. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Duke Fraldarius, I hope Glenn was satisfied with my teaching.”

Rodrigue smiled again.

“Certainly, he informed me that you were remarkably talented in Faith magic, as a practitioner myself I understand the dedication required to reach your level. And please, “ he added, “there is no need for such formality, professor.”

Something about the professor’s smile changed, and Felix momentarily got the impression of a feline lazily observing its prey. Next to him, Dimitri finally swallowed his cake.

“Lord Rodrigue then.”

If his father noticed the change, he did not show it.

“Allow me to introduce my companions. You know Glenn of course. The other ones are Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of Faerghus, and my second son Felix.”

Professor Manuela turned from his father and smiled at them, Felix was surprised how genuinely it was. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Dimitri, Felix.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Professor,” Dimitri chimed politely, “Thank you for looking out for Glenn.”

Dimitri ignored Glenn grumbling and gave the Professor a smile, which she returned, before turning to look at Felix.

Who, feeling shy in the presence of the woman’s genuine friendliness, managed to squeeze out a “pleasure is mine.” before ducking his head. He could almost feel his father’s exasperatedly amused headshake and his brother’s teasing grin. 

Professor Manuela chuckled, but it wasn’t a mocking sound, instead, she sounded kind. “So polite,” she chimed, before returning her gaze to Felix’s father, her smile gaining another layer Felix could not interpret, “Lord Rodrigue, it was truly a pleasure to meet you. I must thank you,” she almost seemed to purr, “for convincing Glenn to accept his nomination. Would you like to have dinner later?”

It was a bold question. Felix blinked, Glenn slapped his face and even their father seemed taken aback by the sudden invitation. 

“Ah,” he said, “while I am certain we would have a most delightful evening, I had hoped to eat with my sons and the prince. You are, of course, more than welcome to join us.” a smile, “I would be delighted to hear how Glenn has comported himself.”

Professor Manuel laughed. The air around her seemed to change again. “And I would be delighted to tell you. If I see you in the dining hall, I will certainly take you up on such a gracious invitation.” she paused, “sadly, I will have to excuse myself from your company. I have another seminar to teach.”

“Of course.“ Rodrigue agreed, and they bid their goodbyes as the woman walked away. 

“And that was Professor Manuela,“ Glenn said after the woman was out of earshot. Rodrigue cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“I see. Well. It seems like. Ah. You did not exaggerate.”

Glenn chuckled. “Quite.” 

Felix noted that his brother seemed to have forgotten his grief at being volunteered to dance in some competition, and instead, his good humor had returned. He turned to Felix and Dimitri with a smile. 

“Well you two, how do you feel about a tour? The training grounds are great!”

Obviously, he was met with enthusiasm and Rodrigue’s interjection that a tour should encompass more than just the training facilities were ignored. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Later that evening, Glenn led them to the dining hall where they had dinner with Professor Manuela who graciously entertained them with Glenn’s exploits, all the while smiling at his father, and afterward they went to the rooms provided for them. It seemed like something had gotten mixed up in the communication because the monastery had not anticipated that Rodrigue would be arriving with both his son and the prince. Only two rooms had been prepared. Rodrigue wasn’t pleased by this oversight, but after Dimitri graciously offered to share his room with Felix, there wasn’t much he could do. The aide who had been tasked with the room assignments was very thankful and apologized profusely. Rodrigue had to accept the situation, or risk making a fuss that, by the prince’s own words and desires, was unnecessary, and so Felix got to share with Dimitri. 

He was glad for it. For a moment he had feared to be sent off to bunk with Glenn, and Glenn snored terribly. Felix would have had a terrible night's rest, and after the journey and the excitement of the day, he was quite tired. Unfortunately, Dimitri on the other hand did not share his exhaustion, he was all but bouncing where he stood. 

The guest quarters they were led to were grand and, based on the decor, clearly designed with high ranking delegates of the kingdom in mind. The only other places Felix had seen that many banners and depictions of the royal crest and colors of house Blaiddyd—naturally mixed with the Crest of the church of Seiros—were the really formal receiving rooms of the royal castle. Not even the throne room was decorated this extensively. 

They washed up quickly and changed out of their day clothes. Felix barely kept himself from flopping face down into the pillow. It wasn’t that late yet, and if he wasn’t as exhausted, he would not think about going to sleep for at least another two hours.

“Felix,” Dimitri called him, as he rummaged around in his pack, “would you like to play some cards?”

Felix didn’t. Not really, but his friend seemed so enthusiastic that Felix could not find it in him to refuse him. He found himself nodding. “Yeah, that sounds great. Did you have a game in mind?”

Dimitri beamed at him and proceeded to excitedly tell him about a game he had learned last month that he thought sounded like a great amount of fun. Despite Felix’s reservations—that only increased when he realized that the game was certainly meant to be played by more than just two players—they settled down for the game.

It turned out to be fun, mainly because Dimitri realized that he had forgotten some of the rules, and the two of them decided to come up with new ones together. Thankfully, it also served to keep Felix awake. It would have been quite embarrassing to fall asleep like a baby on a sleepover, even if he knew that unlike the rest of his friends, the prince would not have teased him too much. Felix also noted, however, that Dimitri was preoccupied with something: once in a while he would open his mouth as if to say something, then he would bite it back and instead settle for either telling a bad joke or say something inane about the game. Felix let him, he knew his friend would crack eventually. Surprisingly, it took Dimitri longer than Felix would have expected. 

They were still sitting on top of the covers with a set of cards between them though they had stopped playing some time ago when Dimitri finally brought up what he had obviously been thinking about since dinner. Felix, at this point, was half lying on the bed, his head on the pillow, and internally celebrating the fact that bedtime was quickly approaching, while Dimitri was still sitting cross-legged and upright, though his posture wouldn’t have passed court muster. 

“I overheard something in the dining hall today,” The prince’s words, startled Felix out of his thoughts and he blinked up at Dimitri, raising his head from the pillow. Did Dimitri—in a rather roundabout and indirect way—just confess to listening in on other people’s conversations? 

“You eavesdropped?” Felix asked, somehow amazed.

Dimitri flushed, his eyes opened wide, “What? No! Felix, that would be rude. I just overheard it.” he cleared his throat, apparently realizing that rewording it did not make much of a change to the subject matter. “They were talking quite loudly,” the prince eventually settled on defending himself. “I could not help but overhear it.”

“Uhuh.” Felix intoned, smirking, and doing his best to match the tone that Sylvain always used because he knew it would bring the sentiment across best.

He was successful. Dimitri flushed. “Felix!”

Felix laughed, letting his head flop down into the pillow again. “Sorry, Dima, tell me, what was it that you—accidentally—could not help but overhear?”

Dimitri grappled with the words for a moment, the flush still lingering in his cheeks prettily. He looked like the girls were always described in the stories. It only made Felix grin wider. 

Dimitri pouted, a childish expression that he somehow made look charming. 

“If you do not want to hear it. Fine.” the prince turned away, something in his expression falling, Felix noted, “It does not matter. It was just,” a minute pause, “something stupid, I guess.”

The teasing went out of Felix, and he sat up.

“No, come on Dima.“ he rubbed his eyes. “I was just teasing. You’re usually the one who tells me that eavesdropping is rude. I do want to know.”

Dimitri turned towards himself again, he searched Felix’s expression and thankfully seemed to find what he was looking for. The tension in his shoulders, that Felix had—much to his chagrin—not noted before, went away. 

“Some girls were talking about a legend, about the goddess tower, you know. They said that if you made a wish there, with someone else, that it would come true. Like a blessing from the goddess.”

His friend sounded terribly excited about it. Felix wasn’t sure why. He also couldn’t help but wonder why Dimitri was so invested in it. 

“They also said that it's the place where the goddess granted the people the gift to find their soulmates.”

That part sounded more ridiculous, Felix was pretty sure that the goddess was supposed to have given people the gift long before the monastery was built, Still, Soulmates...Felix looked down at his hands and the blue spots that Dimitri had left when they had wrestled for some of the cards a while ago. 

Even without his friend saying it, Felix knew what Dimitri wanted to do, but for some reason did not dare ask for. Felix allowed himself a heartbeat of mourning for the soft bed before he moved. 

“Alright,” he said and swung his legs out of the bed. “Let’s go check it out.”

Dimitri blinked. “Oh no. Felix that was not what I meant at all.” he denied rather uselessly, “I just thought it was interesting. It certainly sounded like a nice legend, and I thought you might want to hear about it.

“Sure,” Felix agreed, already slipping back into his shoes. “It is interesting. That’s why we should check it out.” he looked at Dimitri, still sitting on the bed, looking torn between disapproval and excitement. Felix turned away again, so his eye roll would go unnoticed, “We won’t be in the monastery again for years, and it’s not too late yet.”

Another look back, “Come on Dima. I wanna see it.”

The speed with which Dimitri put on a jacket and his shoes, rather belied his previous denials of not wanting to see the goddess tower, but Felix did not point it out. For some reason he could not understand, this was important, and he did not want Dimitri to refuse for the sake of his pride or some other reason that somehow made sense in his prince’s head. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Despite what Felix had said previously, and despite knowing that he was right, the two of them took care not to be spotted by other people as they made their way towards the cathedral. The cathedral was a stunning sight in the dark. It was lit up from within and in the darkness of the evening seemed to spill light out into the world. Magnificent and impressive. Felix wondered if the bridge approaching it was the best way to see it. 

Dimitri did not seem to be as taken by the sight as Felix was, even was moving steadily onwards, gaze fixed to the left of the cathedral where the goddess tower was. Compared to the cathedral it seemed understated and unimportant. Yet it was where they were going. They did not meet anyone, but through the still open doors of the cathedral, Felix could still see some monks and nuns milling around. 

The goddess tower was unguarded, and when Felix spotted the closed door he expected this to be the end of their track, but the door opened easily when Dimitri tried the handle.

“Huh.“ Felix muttered and looked curiously into the dark stairway. “Do we have to climb it?” Next to him, Dimitri hesitated as well, taking only a half step into the ground floor of the tower. The stairs seemed old and worn and there was no banister for safety. Just steps leading up into the darkness. 

“We don’t have to climb it,“ Dimitri told him hesitantly, “It’s just a legend after all.”

With his words, he made the decision for Felix. Purposefully stepping forward, he put one hand against the stone wall to help guide him in the right direction. At the foot of the stairs, the light falling through the doorway was still enough to make out most of their surroundings. 

“We’re already here, we might as well go up to the top.” and with that Felix started up the stairs, though he was careful to keep his hand against the wall. After he had gone up some steps, he turned back around again and found Dimitri still standing in the open doorway. There was a look on the prince’s face that Felix could not quite read, but it wasn’t a bad look, just too intended for Felix to categorize it. Standing on the steps, Felix fought back the urge to fidget. “Well, are you coming?”

Dimitri stood still for another moment before he stepped forward. First one step, then another. He caught up with Felix quickly, and when he looked at him his lips were curled into a smile that Felix hadn’t seen him wear before.

“Lead the way, Felix.”

Felix hesitated a moment, unsure what to make of Dimitri’s sudden change of mood, but then he shrugged and started up the tower. Dimitri followed behind.

The climb up the tower took longer than Felix had expected. The further up they got the less they could see. Where the door had let through more of the light from the cathedral, the windows in the tower were much smaller and what little light they let through made spotting more than just the barest outline of the steps quite difficult. Felix moved forward slowly and steadily, but he did not feel rushed or scared, instead, he found that the sound of Dimitri’s steady breathing behind him was very calming. 

Eventually, they made it to the top. There was another door, and Felix had to grope around in the dark for a moment before he found the door handle. When he tried it for the first time he had a short-lived moment of doubt. What would they do if it was locked? But with some effort on his part, the door swung open and they stepped out onto the balcony at the top of the tower. 

It was higher up than Felix had expected. Not higher than the castle in Fhirdiad, or even castle Fraladarius’s highest tower, but neither castle was as high up in the mountains as the monastery. And the sight before them was stunning. Despite the darkness outside, or maybe in part because of it, it was a breathtaking sight. The night was clear and the stars sparkled overhead, in the distance, Felix could make out the lights of some of the closer villages.

“Wow.” Dimitri breathed next to him, clearly sharing his awe. Stepping up to the railing of the balcony, Felix carefully gazed down. In the darkness, it was hard to say how high up they were. A hand grasped his arm and gently but firmly pulled him back from where he was leaning over the railing. 

“Careful,“ Dimitri murmured, but he was a bit of a hypocrite because he was standing right next to Felix, a fact that Felix chose not to point out to him. Instead, he stayed standing next to his friend as they gazed out into the night before them. 

After a moment, Felix turned towards Dimitri.

“So? What’s the wish you wanted to make?”

Dimitri startled and turned towards Felix with wide eyes as if he had not expected Felix to pick up on that. Mentally snorting, Felix tried to project an aura on nonchalance. But as the silence stretched on he could not help but probe.

“Well?”

Instead of answering, Dimitri tore his gaze away from Felix and looked back towards the sky again. His shoulders were slightly hunched and he was fidgeting where he stood.

“It is… silly.”

Felix blinked, taken aback.

“Why?”

The fidgeting got worse and the prince actually started fumbling with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“It is a selfish wish.”

“So?” Felix found himself asking, “Aren’t all wishes?”

Dimitri turned towards him looking surprised as if he had never heard that before. “How can all wishes be selfish Felix?”

Felix looked back at him. “How can they not?” he asked.

Dimitri pursed his lips, “Easily?” But he sounded as if he wasn’t sure of his own arguments. “Some people would wish for the happiness of others. Like for them to live peaceful lives, or to be healthy. How-”

Felix cut him off.

“Yes,” he agreed, “And they wish that because they don’t want to feel bad about having a good life because they want to be good people. Or simply because they think it's expected of them and they don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

His answer seemed to flummox the prince, as he was simply staring at him with slightly wide eyes.

“Felix… that,” Dimitri paused, “That is really pessimistic… Where does that come from?”

His friend seemed genuinely concerned, if not worried, by Felix's answer, which was honestly one of the strangest things that happened that evening so far.

Felix frowned back at him in confusion.

“It just is. I mean, maybe if people wish for people they love to be happy it makes sense, but that’s selfish too, in a way, because of course, you want them to be happy. It’s, I mean, It’s not a bad thing. Even if you were to wish for peace, that would be peace for you too, so…”

He trailed off, not sure what else to add to that, then decided to change track. 

“So it’s okay for you to make a selfish wish.”

For a moment Dimitri simply looked at him, then away, and then back again. His gaze was heavy and unreadable, and suddenly Felix wished that it was a bit lighter up here, or that they had thought to bring a lantern because he wished he could figure out what Dimitri was thinking. 

“A selfish wish…” Dimitri murmured to himself, still looking in Felix's direction, but not really seeing him. He fell silent again staring into nothing, a frown visible on his face and gnawing on his lower lip. After a while, Felix could not stand the silence anymore. He shifted his weight slightly and cleared his throat. In the stillness of the night, it was a shockingly loud sound. 

“Dimitri?” he asked, and the prince suddenly flinched violently. In his shock, Felix took a half step back as well, turning where he stood and looking for whatever had startled his friend so. But there was nothing around them. 

“Dima?” he asked again, turning back to face the prince whose shoulders were slightly hunched. He looked unhappy, and Felix felt a pit sink into his stomach. He had insisted on coming here because it was something he thought Dimitri would want to do. Something which was supposed to make him happy, not, not _this_. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked, feeling helpless in the face of his friend's clear, but inexplicable, unhappiness.

Dimitri raised his gaze and simply looked at him for a moment, then he smiled. It wasn’t a good smile. And Felix wasn’t sure if it should even be called a smile at all, given that it was obviously fake.

“It is nothing, Felix. Just an uncomfortable thought.” he was still wearing that grimace he was trying to pass off as a smile. 

“No, It’s obviously not nothing,“ the words came out sharper than intended, but Felix had no interest in taking them back, if only for the fact that instead of wearing that face, Dimitri was looking at him with something like surprise now. 

“It is just—” But Dimitri cut himself off again, and Felix found his frustration mounting. 

“What’s wrong, Dima? We came here because you wanted to make a wish. I thought you— but now you act like you can’t just because, because what?” Felix grappled with his words, “because it’s selfish?”

Dimitri simply looked at him, licked his lips and looked away. “Look, Felix, it is alright. Let us just—”

“It’s just a wish,” Felix mumbled unhappily. “You can wish whatever you want.” And to his horror, he felt his eyes burn in a familiar way. Clenching his fists at his side, Felix tried to force the rising tears away, but it was too late because Dimitri had noticed. 

“Felix,” He mumbled, and then hesitantly stepped up to Felix and took his hand.

“There is no need to cry.”

He squeezed Felix's hand, but somehow that did not make matters better at all. The tears that had been welling up in Felix’s eye actually started to fall. Felix was furious with himself, raising the hand that Dimitri wasn’t holding to scrub at them.

“I know that. But you—” He took a deep breath, “Why can’t you just make a wish? Who cares if it’s selfish. It’s not like you are wishing for something bad to happen to somebody.” Because there is no way Dimitri would ever do that.

The prince’s eyes widened in shock. “No!” He exclaimed, “Of course not!”

Felix looked at him. “Then why can’t you make your wish? Is it,“ he hesitated, “Is it wanting to spend more time with your father? Even though you know he is busy with important matters?” 

That was what Felix wanted to do sometimes, especially now that Glenn was no longer in Fraldarius and Felix had a lot of time on his own.

Dimitri considered his question, his fingers still interlinked with Felix’s. They hadn’t held hands like this in a while, because it wasn’t proper, but they still fit together perfectly. Felix didn’t know if it was because they were soulmates, or because they were Dimitri and Felix, and that was just as special. 

“It is…” Dimitri hesitated, then met Felix’s gaze imploringly. They were standing close enough together that Felix could have counted his eyelashes, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Eyes widening Felix pushed back a surge of annoyance as if he would ever tell anyone Dimitri’s secrets. “Of course, I won’t.”

Dimitri looked at him, then looked down at their hands, when he spoke he did not meet Felix’s eyes again.

“I… I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, I am the prince, and that means I…” he paused, changed track, “I guess it is a bit like wanting to spend time with my father, but,” another pause, “It feels like the older I get, the more is expected of me,” Dimitri sounded angry for a moment, but then he tracked back, “I know that that is not bad. It is part of growing up. And it is nice to be trusted with more responsibilities, but…” he trailed off again, his mouth moving soundlessly. Felix did not interrupt him, he simply kept holding his hand and waited for Dimitri to find the right words. 

“It feels like the more I am expected to be the prince, the less I can be… Dimitri.”

He fidgeted, and for a moment the grasp he had on Felix’s hand became painfully tight. Felix fought back the grimace and instead squeezed back.

“And I cannot help but think that it will only continue like that. Prince Dimitri can’t do this, Prince Dimitri can’t do that, Prince Dimitri has to be… all those things that I am not. Even Glenn only calls me ‘your highness’ now. And,” Felix could hear Dimitri swallow.

“And in the future, I— Will I just be the prince?” Dimitri’s breathing hitched, “Can’t I be Dimitri anymore?”

The hand holding Felix’s own was shaking, “I know that it is important to give a good example,” Dimitri continued, “And I do not mind, truly,” he insisted as if trying to convince them both, “I just want to be important to someone as Dimitri too. Not just because I am the prince, the heir, the future king.” 

In the end, he sounded like he was quoting someone. Whoever it was, Felix did not like them. He also remembered how his friend had been unhappy when Felix had referred to him as the prince, and even earlier, he had seemed unhappy when Felix had called him by his name like he did in public, instead of the childhood nickname he otherwise still clung to. 

Since he had finished speaking, Dimitri hadn’t looked up. His gaze remained fixed on their hands. Felix squeezed his fingers around his friend’s. 

“Dima, listen.” he swallowed, and at his words, Dimitri looked up. He did not raise his head, but he looked at Felix through the curtain of his hair and met his eyes. Felix fought the urge to look away. 

“To me,“ Felix told Dimitri very seriously. “You will always be important. We are friends, after all, that won’t just go away, even if things change. Even if you have to be a proper prince all the time and —” he cleared his throat, “I’m your friend. With me you don’t have to be like that, you can just be Dima and —” he licked his lips, not sure how to get the message he needed his friend to understand across, “You could be some servant’s son, or a fisher’s, or — and, and you would still be Dima. Still, be important and not because you’re the prince. ”

He felt the heat on his face and avoided his friend’s eyes. It was embarrassing to say stuff like that out loud. He had no idea how Sylvain went around talking to girls like that, making all those compliments. It was terrible. 

Dimitri looked at him, and then hesitantly, slowly he smiled. A real smile this time.

“Felix,“ he mumbled, and to Felix’s horror, he noticed that Dimitri was blushing too, but he was also smiling. “Thank you.”

Felix nodded, to show he had heard and squeezed Dimitri’s hand again, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Dimitri’s gaze, instead, he looked down on their hands. In the dark, he could not see much, but he could see where his own hands were darker than Dimitri’s where the blue color had spread. It would stay for a few days, Felix knew, and it made him smile. 

They remained standing like that for a while. Felix could feel the cold night air bite at his cheeks, and he hoped it would get rid of the blush. The darkness might hide how badly he was blushing, but if Felix had been able to see Dimitri’s blush, then Dimitri would do the same to him.

“Anyway,” Felix said after a moment, looking up, only to find that he was still the center of his friend’s attention, that Dimitri was still looking at him with that too soft, too fragile smile. It flustered him and he took a step back, leaving their hands hanging in the air between them, as neither of them had released their grip.

“Anyway,” Felix cleared his throat and repeated himself, Dimitri’s smile gained a teasing edge, “What was your wish?”

Dimitri looked at him in surprise, then he smiled.

“I wanted to wish that people remembered me as Dimitri, not just as the prince.”

Felix looked at him, then he grinned.

“Alright,” he said, “Then let’s wish for that.”

Dimitri nodded, and pulled Felix closer again by the hand, before turning to face the sky. 

“Alright, that’s my wish then.” Dimitri breathed in deeply, “I want to be a good prince, but also be Dimitri.” he paused, “And for Felix to stay by my side.”

Felix had smiled through Dimitri stating his wish, fondly amused that his friend included being a good prince bit as well, but at the last addition, he startled and turned towards him. Dimitri was looking at him as well, grinning cheekily, close enough that their noses were almost touching.

When Felix reeled back, Dimitri laughed, and let go of his hand. “Urg,” Felix groused at him, his ears and face practically burning, “why do you always do that?”

He did not get an answer, only laughter. Less reluctantly then he would have liked, Felix found himself smiling too. Glad to see Dimitri happy and finally out of his brooding mood. 

A moment later, however, he raised his hands to cover a yawn. Dimitri noticed and calmed down.

“Let’s go back.” he said, “I know you were tired before we even climbed up here.”

Felix shrugged, it wasn’t a big deal. Even if the lure of curling up in the warm bed with his friend and finally closing his eyes sounded very tempting.

“Okay.”

They moved towards the staircase again, and Dimitri paused in the doorway.

“Felix,” Dimitri said again, “Thank you.”

Felix nodded, “Anytime.” And he meant it. 

With that they made their way down the stairs, this time, Dimitri went first.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase again, Felix traced his fingers alongside the wall again. Slightly higher than where Felix himself had put his hand originally, he could see the blue left behind from where his friend's hand had brushed against it. Tracing the line with his fingers Felix smiled to himself. He was still smiling when he followed Dimitri out of the tower. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

When they were on their way back towards the room, Dimitri seemed to remember something else, and the lightness that had been on him since they had left the tower disappeared. Instead, his shoulders dropped. 

“Dima? What’s with you?” Felix asked.

The smile he got in return for his query was fake, and Felix scowled and stopped walking, truly annoyed that his friends had gone dark again so soon.

“What?”

Dimitri blinked at him, “It’s nothing, Felix. Do not worry yourself.”

“Urg,” Felix threw up his hands, “That’s probably the last thing you should tell someone if you want them not to worry.”

“Ahh,” Dimitri seemed unsure what to say, and Felix cut him off before he could make up his mind. “What are you upset about?” he paused, “I promise I’m not going to laugh.”

For a moment Dimitri simply looked at him. They were still standing in the middle of the bridge leading towards the cathedral, and backlit by the light the prince looked almost like a painting. After a moment he finally answered.

“It’s not really something I’m upset about.” he said slowly, eyes flickering to Felix and away, shoulders still slightly hunched, “It is silly,” Dimitri forced a laugh, echoing the words he had said at the top of the tower. Felix did not join in and he trailed off, “It’s just,” the prince licked his lips then he blurted out all at once, “the legend isn’t a general thing. It’s only on the night of the ball, and well, the ball is still months away… so…”

After he finished Dimitri did not meet Felix’s eyes. It was strange, Felix thought idly, to not be the one avoiding the gazes of other people for once. “Well,“ Felix said after a moment of thought, “Then let's not make it a wish, but a promise.” Dimitri gave him a questioning look, Felix rolled his eyes, flushing again. Technically, he had already made this promise, but if Dimitri was being silly about it, “If it’s a promise it has nothing to do with the goddess or her blessings,” he explained, “It’s people who make promises and it’s people who keep them. So, it’s like you wished for.” he knew he was probably red in the face by now. “I’ll make you a promise. I told you already that you would always be Dimitri to me, not just the prince.” He looked seriously at his friend. Dimitri looked at him, and then, thankfully, the smile came back. Big and honest and slightly goofy, just like Felix liked it best.

“Thank you, Felix. That,” Dimitri licked his lips,” Means a lot to me.”

The stars above them twinkled merrily as the two of them smiled at each other. Purposefully, Felix repeated the promise “I, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, swear to always look beyond the prince to see you as you really are.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Afterward, they made their way back to their assigned room. It was a lot later then Felix had expected, probably late enough that they might actually get into trouble. Thankfully, they managed to avoid what few people were still around at this time of the night.

It was almost exciting, like the adventures they had had when they were little kids and went around exploring whatever castle they were staying at. From the grin on Dimitri’s face, he was probably thinking along the same lines. And then, when they ducked behind a hedge to avoid a guard, Dimitri grabbed his hand, tugging him along, just like he had always done back then.

If he weren’t so tired Felix probably would have asked Dimitri to go and explore the monastery with him. It would certainly be even more exciting at night. The fact remained, however, that Felix almost fell asleep when they crouched and leaned against a wall. So it was high time to go to sleep.

In their room, they quickly changed into their sleep clothes and crawled under the covers. It was a big bed, and they could have probably slept through the whole night without touching at all. Dimitri, however, scooted to the middle of the bed, and Felix was perfectly happy to join him and tug himself against his friend's side. They hadn’t been able to sleep like this in a while. Felix only realized how much he had missed it when he tucked his head against Dimitri’s shoulder and felt the familiar tickle of blond hair against his forehead. 

In the small space between them, Dimitri’s hand grasped his, and Felix gave it a squeeze. 

“G’night Dima,” he mumbled. Dimitri hummed, Felix could feel it through his whole body. “Goodnight, Felix”

Felix expected to fall asleep immediately, but despite being the one who had been tired the whole evening, it was Dimitri who fell asleep first. And Felix found himself lying awake in bed, listening to his deep and even breathing. It had been shocking to see Dimitri so unhappy. He couldn’t quite imagine what it had to be like, to be expected to always be… the prince. 

To him, Dimitri had always been Dimitri, who just happened to be a prince, but now that he thought about it, Dimitri had always been treated differently. Even Ingrid and Sylvain didn’t call him by his name. Hadn’t in years. Felix had never thought that it was strange before. Not even when Glenn started calling Dimitri ‘your highness’, after all his brother was a knight now, and he didn’t treat Dimitri any differently except for the name.

It would be strange, Felix decided, if people no longer called him by his name. He was sure that Lady Patricia — Dimitri’s governess or something — and the king at least called Dimitri by his name, sometimes, so did Felix’s own father. And Felix himself. 

There was no one else.

Looking down at his sleeping friend. Felix once more repeated the promise to himself. He would remain with Dima and remember that he was not the prince, but the person underneath, whoever that might be in the future.

The next morning, Felix woke up wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms, covered in blue from head to toe, and drooling on his friend’s shoulder, while Dimitri chewed on his hair. 

That too was familiar, though more embarrassing than comforting. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

As they grew older, the amount of blue on him changed. The older they get the less proper it was for them to be as affectionate with each other, and by the time they reached fourteen Felix's hands were without traces of blue more often than not. And while this sometimes made Felix sad, in the great scheme of things it didn’t change anything, after all, they were still soulmates all the same. 

They still trained together and laughed together, and sometimes, they got into trouble together. 

Glenn joined the royal guard, and for the first time, Felix found himself thinking about his future in less nebulous terms. One day, Glenn was going to be Duke Fraldarius and serve as Dimitri’s Duke, but Felix had no such role planned out for him. Yet, he wanted to remain at his soulmate's —his friend’s—side too. 

Over the generations, he knew, several members of his house had joined the Lion’s Guard and lived in Fhirdiad in service of the king and his family. And maybe that’s what Felix should do as well, he was good with a sword, better than Glenn even, and if he trained hard, he was sure he would get even better. He would go to the Officers Academy with Dimitri when they were older, and then, he would become a knight and join the Lion’s Guard. That way, he could help and protect both Dimitri and his brother. 

To Felix, it sounded like a perfect future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that we have reached the end of part one! Next time, we're switching to Dimitri's POV.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the post Duscur era, and from now it it will be Dimitri's POV. Please keep in mind that he is not in a good place. 
> 
> Potential sensitive topics in this chapter are Faerghus' reaction to the massacre, and the murder of the people of Duscur, the Western rebellion, including Dimitri's loss of control, and him dissociation for parts of it. Neither is described in detail. Also, the boar nickname makes its apperance, and Felix's terrible attitude towards Dedue, based on their C-support. He describes him as a "dog" in a dehumanizing manner. Dimitri calls him out on it, but given the escalation of their argument it remains unresolved. 
> 
> Sorry for the slow posting, my beta reader is still hard at work!

Dimitri did not wake up as much as that he simply opened his eyes, exchanging the numbness of unconsciousness for one of wakefulness. In his ears, the screams of the dead were still ringing. He could still smell the fire, feel the heat of the flames, and the panic clawing at his throat.

Yet, the ground beneath him wasn’t wet and muddy with the blood of the dead and dying. Instead, it was soft. 

Dimitri opened his eyes to the blue canopy of his bed. The smell remained. 

He swallowed and pushed himself into a sitting position. It was harder than it had ever been before. His arms ached and shook from the effort. His ribs protested the movement, and it felt like someone had taken a hot stone to his back and pressed it down relentlessly. 

His next breath came out as a choked groan.

“Dima!” Snapping his head to the left side, Dimitri came face to face with Felix. His friend looked about as terrible as Dimitri felt, but the sight of him filled Dimitri with relief so deep, that he almost fell back down onto the bed. 

“Felix,” he breathed his voice nothing more than a rasp. To his surprise, Felix hesitated and looked at him with wide eyes. Dimitri didn’t understand, he expected Felix to come to him, to hug him like he always did. Dimitri wanted— 

Felix stepped forward, crossed the space between them, and threw his arms around Dimitri. It felt different from his usual hugs. Careful, more fragile, but then, Felix had just seen him groan in pain. Dimitri knew that his friend would never want to hurt him, not even by accident. Then Felix took a deep breath; Dimitri could seem him swallow, “Dima,” he said again, and now he sounded close to tears. “Dima, I’m so so—”

The door to his room swung open and Rodrigue stepped in. The duke wasn’t looking at Dimitri though, instead, his gaze was fixed on something in the middle distance. He looked tired and drained, and his clothes were just a bit rumpled, showing the wear of a long day.

Once his eyes landed on Dimitri, however, they widened and the tiredness vanished.

“Dimitri.” The relief in Rodrigue’s voice was obvious as he made his way to Dimitri’s bedside with quick strides. “I am so glad to see you awake. Thank the goddess.”

From the way Rodrigue's voice broke, Dimitri could not help but think that they had not expected him to wake up soon, if at all. 

Contrary to usual etiquette, Rodrigue sat down on the bed beside him instead of the abandoned visitor’s chair. He slowly reached out to place one hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. The touch was grounding, but at the same time, it was too much. Dimitri started to shake. 

“What— How?”

He knew where he was, but he did not know he got here. The last thing he remembered was the fire all around him. He remembered the glow of the Aegis shield, now strapped to Rodrigue’s side. And the blood covering it, running down the edge of it and dripping down onto Dimitri.

Rodrigue breathed deeply, and Dimitri focused on him, did not, for the moment, allow himself to look anywhere but into Rodrigue’s eyes. (They were blue, and so much like Glenn’s had been.)

“Gustave found you and brought you back,” Rodrigue informed him. “Please do not move. You were injured.”

Dimitri nodded. He could feel that Rodrigue was right, but the pain was a distant thing. Unimportant and easy to push aside. 

“Who else?” His words came out as a croak, and Rodrigue poured him something to drink, tellingly he did not answer immediately, and Dimitri felt a stone settling into his stomach. Despite how dry his throat was, he could hardly bring himself to swallow the water. 

“Rodrigue, please?”

The breath that the duke led out was shaky as well. “I’m sorry. You were the only one he found.”

For a moment Dimitri needed to simply focus on breathing, his gaze fixed at one point above Rodrigue's shoulder. He knew that many had died. (Had seen the corpses and heard them scream.) But all of them?

When he met Rodrigue’s gaze again, the horrible sense of wrongness that Dimitri was feeling was reflected back to him in the man’s eyes.

“Can you,” he saw Rodrigue swallow, saw the hesitation, and knew what his father’s best friend wanted to ask before the questions passed his lips.

“Can you tell me what you remember?”

Dimitri remembered blood and pain, and fire. Shouting and screaming and pleading. The stench of cooked flesh, and guts and vomit. 

“The attack came out of nowhere,” he said instead. “One moment everything was fine… and then…”

He watched Rodrigue’s throat bob as he swallowed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Felix moving closer. He turned his head slightly and met his friend’s gaze. Felix crossed the distance between him and took his hand. It was something Dimitri could feel. Something he could focus on, even when he felt like he was back on that road in Duscur. He felt numb, and even the warmth of Felix’s hand was more sense memory than physical reality. But he was there, and Dimitri was grateful.

“... Glenn told me to run. He grabbed me and…” 

He could not say more than that. He only remembered the warm spray of blood seeing into Dimitri’s clothes, the weight on top of him. Dark hair falling into his face. He shivered. Desperate to escape the memories he squeezed Felix's hand and watched how his own fingers folded around his friend’s. 

“Dimitri, I am sorry to ask this of you, but do you know who attacked you?” Dimitri swallowed, breathed, looked at Felix, looked at Rodrigue.

“No,” he eventually managed to choke out. “They… they had good weapons.” Swords that dented each other when they clashed. Armor that withstood blows. “Mages…” Fire on all sides. Meteors falling from the heavens. “There were a lot of them.” They had been overrun.

Dimitri shivered again, curled up on himself. Next to him Felix made a noise of distress and climbed up onto the bed. His arm curled around Dimitri’s, their fingers interlocked still, and he pressed into Dimitri’s side, like a cat seeking warmth. Dimitri leaned into the contact. 

After a long moment of silence, Rodrigue spoke again. He still sat by his hip. Through the blanket, Dimitri could feel the warmth of his body. 

“Your Highness,” then Rodrigue corrected himself, “Dimitri. I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what you must be going through right now.” 

Dimitri had lost a father and a mother. Rodrigue had lost a son. Felix had lost a brother. They had all lost friends. Yet, they were still here. 

“I don’t… I …” His stepmother and father and Glenn and so many others, they were all gone. “You and Felix are still here. I, I will be fine.”

Dimitri looked to the side to meet Felix’s eyes, he could not quite force himself to smile, but he quirked the corner of his lips. Felix looked back at him, face for once unreadable even to Dimitri. His friend’s eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, but now the tears were gone. Dimitri returned his gaze to Rodrigue. Something flickered across Rodrigue’s face and Dimitri could see him swallow heavily. A storm of thought brewing behind the man’s eyes Then the duke breathed out, and before Dimitri could react, he was wrapped up in his arms. Warm and comfortable, and he arched. Rodrigues' hold was different from Felix’s, it felt simply more, less hesitant, then again, Felix was his size, while Rodrigue was much taller than him, and Dimitri almost disappeared in his embrace.

“Quite right, your highness,” Rodrigue murmured next to his ear. Over his shoulder, Dimitri could see Felix looking at them, face unreadable. For the first time since Dimitri woke up, he wondered if Felix was angry with him. If it weren’t for Dimitri, Felix would still have his brother. Before he could address Felix, however, Rodrigue caught his attention again. “Know, that if I can help you in any way, I will.” a pause, “House Fraldarius stands with you.”

Rodrigue continued holding him for a while, and Dimitri leeched off all the comfort he could. Something told him that this was the point where he should cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, he simply leaned in the warm embrace, clutched Felix’s hand, and breathed. He did not think about the fire and the bodies. Just breathed in the smells surrounding him, there was no fire here. 

Eventually, after Dimitri got more and more tired and started dozing off, Rodrigue excused himself, stating that he would inform the court. He made his way to the door steadily, but before he left he turned around again. Even half-asleep, he could make out the deep sadness on his father’s best friend’s face as he gazed back at him and Felix. Dimitri turned his head sideways slightly to look at Felix who was still on the bed next to him. There was a hard and forbidding look on his friend's face, his lips curled derisively as he watched his father leave, Dimitri had never seen Felix wear an expression like that before. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri spent the next few days flickered in and out of consciousness. The periods for which he remained awake grew longer and longer and he regained some strength. Gilbert came to see him, but the man would not meet his eyes and left quickly stating his apologies. Eventually, they brought him a meal that was not the tasteless broth he had almost gotten used to. It was his favorite and eating it was a devastating experience. They left him alone to eat after he asked for privacy, so when he started crying in his meal, only Felix, who had been sticking with him near constantly, was around to see him panic. 

On his tongue, everything tasted like ash. It was as if the remnants of his former life, the ashes of the deceased, had covered him like snow covered the landscape in winter. Nothing remained untouched and every breath and every bite that he took to live was nothing but a reminder of the duty that he had to uphold. 

It was a duty he would never forget. 

Because every night he returned to Duscur. Every night the dead came for him in his dreams. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri only learned of the retaliation against the people of Duscur when it was too late for him to do anything about it. The troops had already been assembled, some of them had even started marching already. The political situation in the capital was unsteady and with Rodrigue fending off people wanting to take advantage of Dimitri, whose survival for a time had been unclear, and reestablishing order, there had been little the duke had been able to do when Dimitri’s uncle Rufus, in an attempted to focus the motivation of the populace in one direction had demanded that Duscur issue an official statement on the incident. 

From what Dimitri had managed to gather later, things had spiraled out of control, and Rufus, rather than destabilizing the country further, had chosen to sacrifice the people of Duscur instead. Dimitri would never be able to forgive him for it. 

Dimitri had managed to talk his way into going along, following behind after having to promise to stay safe with his guards. It was a promise he did not keep. He had to try to at least save some people. They weren't attacking soldiers, rebels, or even a semi-organized militia, they were slaughtering children.

He failed. 

The only good he had managed to do: save one life among thousands. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

After Duscur, after people felt like they had laid the spirits of the unjustly slain countrymen and king to rest, a memorial was arranged. Dimitri attended, as was both his duty and his wish, though he managed to convince Dedue that it was not necessary for him to accompany him. 

The likelihood of racist speeches being held was unfortunately very high. The vilification of the people of Duscur was a thing that turned Dimitri’s stomach, but unless it happened right in front of him there was sadly very little he could do about it. Nevertheless, Dedue insisted on getting him ready for his public appearance. So far, he was more hindrance than help, but he was a fast learner, that much even the other hesitant servants had agreed on.

The formal robes felt like trappings and every time Dimitri breathed he felt the collar press against his throat. Rodrigue and Rufus were waiting for him at the grand staircase. He had not talked to his uncle since the attack on Duscur, but he did not argue his presence as they walked towards the memorial. Dimitri well understood the necessity of presenting a united front. He would not want his uncle, the recently named regent, to be forced to other desperate measures after all.

The memorial they had erected was in a remote part of the castle grounds. It was a big stone slab, engraved with the crest of house Blaiddyd at the top. It listed the list of all the names of the dead and who they were. His father, the king, unjustly slain. There were many loyal knights. There was his stepmother—Lady Patricia von Arundel, governess to the Prince. Dimitri did not need to read the names. He had been the one who went through records to compile them and had not been deterred, ignoring all those who wanted him to leave it to someone else. He knew that Rodrigue and Rufus had gone over the list and added the personal information afterward. 

When he arrived for the memorial service, accompanied by his uncle and Rodrigue, people parted before them, making space for them at the very front of the crowd. When they approached Dimitri spotted Felix as well.

He was standing in front of the memorial, closer than all the others. It was a bit impolite of his friend to block the sight for those behind him, but no one called him out on it. They all knew who he was and that his brother was among the dead. Though Felix was the heir to house Fraldarius now, he was not the crown prince in waiting, he could act with less decorum than Dimitri. And Dimitri was glad for it.

Eventually, as more and more people gathered in front of the memorial, Felix turned away from it and walked over to where Dimitri and Rodrigue himself were standing. Dimitri had expected his friend to by crying, but instead, his eyes were dry, and his face eerily blank. He met Dimitri’s gaze only briefly, and while his expression softened slightly, he didn’t say anything and just settled into his space next to Rodrigue. 

The service began. 

Nobles spoke. Rufus spoke. Mourners spoke. Rodrigue spoke. Dimitri did not. He did not even register the words of the other people. And when it was his turn, he stepped in front of the memorial and bowed deep. He stayed that way until Felix tugged him back. No one spoke for a while after that until the bishop took up the threat again.

Dimitri felt numb. The sun was shining down on them, some people were sweating in their formal clothes. Eventually, the mourners started to leave, Rufus was among the first. Some nobles followed, probably hoping to gain favor. Rodrigue remained with him for a while, staring at the memorial with sad eyes and tracing the names. He did not urge Dimitri to leave. It was Felix who eventually had enough. 

“Let's go. Standing here and staring at the names etched on a stone won’t do anything. The only people who get anything out of it are the leeches enjoying your misery.” He threw an irate glance around the yard, and the people still remaining, clustered in groupings and watching Dimitri keenly, “It’s not like the dead are listening. They aren’t here.”

On that, however, Felix was wrong, as if summoned by his words they appeared, gliding into the courtyard.

Dimitri watched horrified as they lined up behind Felix. His father’s ghost—his head halfway cut off—met his gaze. _We will have our vengeance and you will give it to us._

Rodrigue eventually moved. He turned to look at Dimitri. His lips moved, but no sounds came out. Felix frowned and said something as well. Equally voiceless. Or maybe it was Dimitri who was broken once again. Another sense lost in repayment for his survival. Rodrigue’s hand landed on his shoulder. The duke’s frown matched his sons. Dimitri did not care, because everything was drowned out by the voices of the dead demanding vengeance.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Getting out of Fhirdiad turned out to be a relief. It was a queer feeling, Dimitri thought as he rode out of the gates. Fhirdiad used to be his unquestioned home. A place of comfort and safety, where he always felt welcome. Nowadays, the hallways seemed empty, the large presence of his father was gone. It felt wrong to sit on the king’s throne, wrong to walk into the king’s study, and sit in the king’s seat. But that was what Dimitri was expected to do. 

When Rodrigue had offered him to spend some time at castle Fraldarius, Dimitri had jumped on the chance. It wasn’t appropriate for the king-to-be to flee his home, his seat, but there were moments where it was hard to breathe. When the demands of the ghosts of his father and all those that had died with him, seemed to echo in the halls, ready to swallow him. 

He was sure that the ghosts would follow him to Fraldarius as well, but the expectations of the living at least would be less. 

Now, with the city slowly falling behind them, he could not bring himself to regret it. Dedue rode slightly behind him to the left. The fact that Rodrigue had extended the invitation to Dedue as well, had made it all the more precious. The royal court had become a toxic place of veiled insults and hatred for all those that did hail from Faerghus, and even the efforts of Rodrigue and his uncle were only marginally successful in damming it. The boy from Duscur was not very fond of riding, though he suffered through it with more grace then Felix ever had as a child. Maybe the comparison was not fair to make, after all, Felix had been just that, a child, while Dedue was far older than that and had experienced true suffering. 

Felix did not ride with them. Dimitri supposed that he might have already left Fhirdiad before them. It was something he had gotten used to over the last year, Felix walking in and out of his life without saying goodbye or hello. No more sweeping hugs from a friend who forgot propriety and ran up the steps to greet him. There were no more formal greetings when his friend arrived from Fraldarius, but then again very little was still how it used to be. Sometimes, Dimitri felt like he had been cheated out of something. 

Back in the Before, he had sometimes imagined how it would be when he was king, an adult, and much older than he was now, and Felix came to visit him. He had imagined welcoming him in different ways, sometimes like his father occasionally welcomed Rodrigue, by riding out to meet him before the city, other times he had thought that if the situation was less formal, he could simply walk down into the courtyard and greet his friend with a hug, and people would not consider it improper. 

But such thoughts were a thing of the past. 

“If you pardon me for being blunt, your highness, I look forward to meeting your friend.” Dedue sounded hesitant as he said so, Dimitri supposed that he was unsure if he was insulting him by being so forward. Or, if he wondered if Felix would welcome him at all. 

For the latter at least, Dimitri was sure that Felix would have no trouble with the fact that Dedue was from Duscur, he had talked to him enough to know that Felix did not blame Dedue for the tragedy. Unlike Ingrid, who, on her last visit to the capital, had ignored the boy’s presence altogether and seemingly needing the whole force of her not inconsiderable will, to keep herself in check. Dimitri still remembered the white-knuckled grip she had on the table or the cutlery. It had been an unpleasant visit all around. And made him all the more thankful to get out of the city. 

Their train traveled slowly, out of necessity more so than convenience. With the unrest that had plagued the kingdom since the death of his father, bandits had become an ever more common problem, and neither Rodrigue nor his uncle had been willing to take any chance with his safety. Dimitri knew that Dedue had approved of it, even if it meant he had to travel on horseback. However, it seemed that Dedue seemed to enjoy the travel otherwise. 

“The scenery is quite different here, your highness.” Dimitri nodded and turned slightly to face the other boy. 

“Yes, Fraldarius has a lot more forests than Blaiddyd, though they have mining and fishing industries as well.” Fraldarius was, without a doubt, one of the most prosperous regions of Faerghus, not in the least because it shared its bay with Dedriu. 

“And numerous flowers.” this fact especially seemed to please Dedue. Dimitri had noted that he liked spending time in the castle gardens and had ensured that he was welcome there. 

“That too. Especially in spring, the hills are stunning.” Dimitri had memories of running through them and picking flowers to make elaborate flower crowns. The best ones they used to bring to Glenn, who pressed flowers as a hobby and was always appreciative of their efforts. Even if most of the flowers ended up in vases, instead of in his books.

Smiling Dimitri looked over the hills, he could almost imagine them covered in flowers.

 _Flowers are nothing but a frivolous fancy_ , Glenn informed him. His voice rasping as it had when he had choked on his own blood. The stink of burning flesh suddenly appeared in Dimitri’s nostrils and made him feel sick. Glenn continued, “ _They will not give us our vengeance_.”

“Maybe,” Dedue sounded hesitant, “One day we shall see it in spring.”

Dimitri nodded, but the short-lived levity his memories had invoked was gone. “Yes, maybe.” It took hours for the smell of the fresh pine trees around them to chase away the pungent smell of burning flesh. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Castle Fraldarius was on top of the hill overlooking both the harbor city, as well as the road approaching it. With its gates closed, it was an all but unassailable fortress that was capable of sheltering and housing a great number of people. 

Rodrigue and his household awaited them in the courtyard. But, no matter how Dimitri looked he could not spot Felix among the people. He wondered where his friend was off to, and if he was going to hear about it later in the evening after Rodrigue had surely chided him for it. Despite knowing that Felix likely would be irate, Dimitri found himself looking forward to it. 

Dimitri dismounted and approached the Lord of the house who swept into a formal bow.

“Rodrigue.” He found that his smile was genuine as he greeted his father’s oldest friend. For the moment, the ghosts, too, were silent. “Thank you for your invitation.”

Rodrigue rose from his bow and gave Dimitri a smile. With some worry Dimitri noted that Rodrigue looked tired, older then when Dimitri had last seen him, there were lines around his eyes that had not been there the last time. 

“Your Highness,” Rodrigue greeted him, but despite the formality of the address, his smile was warm and full of the affection that Dimitri at once yearned for and feared. “Welcome to Fraldarius, I am glad that you and your companion decided to join me here.”

The duke shot a smile at Dedue over Dimitri’s shoulder, who startled at first but then bowed in return. 

Thankfully, Rodrigue kept the welcoming ceremony short, and Dimitri was quickly ushered into the entrance hall of the manor. At first glance, nothing had changed. The same chandelier, the same paintings, the same carpet. 

“I have had the usual rooms prepared for you, “ Rodrigue informed him kindly after the door fell shut behind him. “And a nearby room for Dedue…” he said more, but Dimitri wasn’t really listening. His ears were ringing. 

Dimitri could imagine the rooms, could remember the rooms. It came to his mind’s eye clearly. The large well lit room, the banner of House Fraldarius hanging on one side, and that of house Blaiddyd on the other. His father sitting on the chair in the entrance area, turning and smiling with humor when he entered the room, backlit by the windows. Suddenly, Dimitri felt sick to his stomach.

Some part of his thought must have shown on his face, because Rodrigue’s expression tightened, before relaxing again. He smiled, it was a reassuring expression, and the hand that he still had on Dimitri’s shoulder squeezed slightly. 

“Of course, as you did so many times in the past when you stayed here, you could also stay in Felix’s old room.” He seemed to look for words, “If you are more comfortable with that.”

The relief Dimitri felt made his knees feel weak, but he managed a thankful smile. 

“I. Yes, I would like that,” then he considered, “Will Felix mind?”

Rodrigue’s smile did not change, but his grip tightened for a moment. “No,” he said, “I do not think he would mind. He always enjoyed your company, your Highness.”

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Thankfully, Rodrigue had accepted his decision to walk on his own with grace, though he insisted that someone showed Dedue around so he could find his way in the castle. Seeing that Dedue looked interested, Dimitri had not argued. The way to Felix’s chamber was a familiar and well-trodden one, and if he took a detour through another hallway to avoid the rooms he and his father used to stay in, no one would be any wiser. 

The door to Felix’s chamber opened with an unfamiliar crack of dry wood, starting Dimitri slightly, but he stepped inside anyway. When he looked around he noted that the room had not changed much from when he had last been here. There were different sheets on the bed, but the quilt Felix’s mother had made for him was still laying on top of it. The books and stories that Felix used to read were no longer laying on the bed and night table, but instead orderly out away on the shelf. The room looked freshly cleaned, though apparently, Felix had not cared to have flowers added to the vase on his table, as it remained empty. 

Dimitri closed the door behind himself and finally looked up to the figure of Felix who was lounging on the bed and looked at him with raised brows. He hesitated. Rodrigue might have said that it was alright for him to stay here, but he should have at least considered that Felix would prefer his privacy. Maybe he didn’t want company at all? After all, he might be home but had not taken part in the greeting. Maybe had wanted to pretend not to be there. Dimitri swallowed, suddenly unsure.

“Felix.” he paused, “Would it be alright if I stayed here for the duration of my stay? Rodrigue said— I mean if you prefer to have the room—”

Mercifully, Felix cut him off.

“It’s fine.” he sounded tense, but not angry, at least, not angry with Dimitri. “I don’t mind if you stay here.” Felix sat up on the bed.

“Did you already bring your stuff?”

Dimitri nodded and gestured towards the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Some of it, Dedue said he would bring me the rest later.” And the boy from Duscur had insisted upon it, even after Dimitri had assured him that he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own.

Felix nodded. 

“Make yourself at home. Like usual.”

Against his will, Dimitri found himself smiling slightly. “Usually, your father would have insisted that I stay in a separate room.”

Felix just hummed, flopping back down onto the bed. “Things are different now.”

There was something in his voice that Dimitri could not identify. But it did not stop Dimitri from crossing the room towards the bed and putting his bag on the floor next to the bed. Felix turned over where he was lying and gazed down at it over the edge of the bed. 

“And you have more luggage than that?” There was humor in his voice, “The bag looks like it would hold enough for a week at least.” 

Dimitri flushed slightly in embarrassment, but Felix wasn’t wrong. His bag was easily twice the size of the saddlebags he used to travel with.

“Well,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “I am a lot taller now than I used to be, so my clothes take up more space.”

Felix snorted.

“And the fancy capes too.”

Dimitri chuckled, glad that his friend was in a good mood. 

“That too I suppose,” he tugged slightly at the cape he was currently wearing, “it… helps project the right image.”

He startled when Felix laughed out loud, and flopped back onto his bed, “Sure, whatever you say. It’s not like you always thought those capes looked cool.”

Dimitri cleared his throat, a touch embarrassed at being called out like that. It wasn’t that he had been lying about it helping him keep his shoulders straight and project the right aura, but Felix wasn’t wrong as well. Still.

“It is not like that Felix.”

He only got a chuckle in response, so Dimitri moved on to another topic. “There are also the gauntlets, of course, they take up quite some space.”

The moment he felt Felix's suddenly sharp gaze on him, he knew he had made a mistake. 

“Yes,” Felix said slowly, “The gauntlets.”

He rolled over from where he was lying, eyes sharp and intent on Dimitri. 

“What’s with the gauntlets, Dimitri?”

Dimitri licked his lips, gazing down at his hands, still in the gauntlets. He looked up at Felix again, but his friend’s focus hadn’t changed a bit. 

“I haven’t seen you take them off yet. Not here, not to eat, even in Fhirdiad when you were writing you wore them.”

Dimitri did not answer. He knew from the question that Felix was asking, that his friend had already realized the issue. Felix was silent for a moment.

“Take them off.”

Dimitri swallowed and did as Felix told him. He tried not to look at his hands. Ugly and scarred. His heritage gave him strength and stamina, it also allowed him to heal faster, but faster did not mean well.

“It got worse?” Dimitri’s hands clenched, and he fought back the urge to hide his hands behind his back. Felix had always known that he was clumsy and could sometimes not properly control his strength. In fact, one of the things that had made Dimitri so very determined to get better at controlling himself had been the time he had accidentally broken Felix’s arm. But recently….

A sharp nod was all the answer he could give. 

Felix looked at him and held out his hand, making a grabby motion. Internally, Dimitri reeled, but on the outside, he simply stared at his friend until Felix rolled his eyes.

“Come on Dimitri. Your hands,” he repeated his hand motion. Hesitantly, Dimitri held them out to him. Felix grasped them without a hint of hesitation. Dimitri stared at the sight. Felix’s hands weren’t ugly like his, but long-fingered and elegant. Seeing them side by side made the difference only more obvious. If it weren’t for the grip Felix had on his hands, Dimitri would have curled them into fists. 

“Well,” Felix said after a while, “You still have all your fingers, so it could be worse.”

The bluntness of the statement caused Dimitri to give a startled laugh. Given the smile that came on his friend’s face that was exactly what he had intended. 

“Felix,” he found himself saying, “I’m glad you are here.”

Felix only hummed, his hands still cradling Dimitri’s, even as he moved to make space on the bed beside him. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri took his dinner alone with Dedue in the latter's room, as Rodrigue had been pulled away by an urgent messager, and Felix had waved his invitation to join them off, stating he had stuff to do.

“How do you like Fraldarius, Dedue?” Dimitri asked his friend, “Has everything been alright so far?”

“Yes.” the other man answered, he was watching Dimitri carefully, but there was a smile on his face. “Everyone has been kind and welcoming.”

Very different from Fhirdiad then. But then, Fraldarius was Fraldarius. So Dimitri should not have expected anything less.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

After dinner, Dimitri returned to Felix's room. He did not meet anyone as he walked through the corridors, and could not help but think that this was just a bit like the times he had secretly snuck over to Felix’s room in the night. This time of course Rodrigue had allowed him to share with Felix to begin with—a gesture that he was unspeakably grateful for—but the countless memories he had of walking this same path under different circumstances made it feel much like the forbidden track of his childhood.

By the time he reached Felix’s room, he was grinning to himself, and maybe walking a bit quicker then he needed to. When he opened the door he found Felix already back in his room, sprawled out on top of the covers like a lazy cat. At the sound of the opening door, he turned onto his side to look at the door. Recognizing Dimitri he flopped back down again.

“What’s with the smile?” he mumbled but did not bother to get up.

If anything, Dimitri felt his smile grow wider.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “I was just reminiscing my precious adventures through the hallways of castle Fraldarius.”

Felix huffed a laugh. “I hardly think that walking through the hallways is an adventure.” But there was humor in his voice, and Dimitri could see that his mouth was curled into a slight smile.

Dimitri hummed as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, “Perhaps not, but it certainly felt like it in the past.”

Felix huffed again, but—tellingly—did not argue. Instead, he scooted over on the bed and made space for Dimitri to join him. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

They went to bed early. Dimitri was tired from the journey, and Felix did not seem too keen on staying up late either. In fact, he was the first to walk behind the screen to change and then flop down back onto the bed again. Dimitri had been taken aback by this. Before, when he stayed over, he and Felix would always stay up late and chat, so the change of pace had surprised him. 

He wondered if Felix was actually just a bit upset about him being here, but didn’t want to say. It would make sense. Obviously, he had understood why Dimitri did not want to sleep in his old room and did not want to make him, so he had welcomed him to his room regardless of Felix’s true feelings on the matter. Suddenly, uncomfortable where he was sitting on the bed, shoes off and leaning against Felix's headboard, Dimitri fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

Then, Felix turned from where he was laying on the bed to look at him. Hair undone and splayed on the pillow around him, part of it falling into his face. He looked at Dimitri with a questioning look.

“Well? Are you going to get changed too?” He continued talking before Dimitri could answer, “You have been trying to stop yourself from falling asleep while sitting for an hour now. Honestly, get changed, I’m not dealing with your bitching tomorrow because your getup was uncomfortable.”

Ah, Dimitri though, smiling slightly as he got up from the bed and grabbed his sleepwear. This was familiar. He made his way behind the privacy screen to get changed and wash, and then rejoined Felix back on the bed. 

His friend still hadn’t bothered to fold back the blanket, and instead was still lounging atop of it. With a smile and a roll of his eyes, something he would not allow himself in the company of anyone else, he shooed Felix aside so he could properly grab the blanket. Despite not caring to do it himself, Felix quickly joined him under the blanket and flopped back onto the pillows with a yawn. Dimitri grabbed the leftover pillow and laid down as well. 

“Good night,” Felix muttered next to him and Dimitri hummed. “Good night, Felix.”

He buried his face in the pillow that smelled like Felix, like the soap his friend had used for as long as he could think, and listened to Felix’s breathing. Part of him wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around him, pull him close like he had when they were children, but they were older now, and Dimitri did not think that Felix as he was now would appreciate the gesture. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

For the first time since the tragedy he slept through the night, not without dreams, but without interruptions. When he woke in the morning he felt heavy and lethargic, coming awake slowly, instead of gasping awake from nightmares.

The scent of the Fraldarius soap still surrounded him, and Dimitri turned his head sideways into the pillow to breathe in deep. A snort from somewhere to his side caused him to blink one eye open. The curtains had already been pulled open and he had to blink for a moment while he adjusted to the light.

“Are you seriously sniffing the pillow?” It was Felix. That made sense. Felix always opened the curtains as soon as he got up, claiming that it helped him actually feel more awake. 

Dimitri only groaned, turning further into the pillow. 

“Honestly, Dimitri. I don’t mind you sleeping in, but I think your vassal walked past the door twice now.”

Reluctantly, Dimitri raised his head from the pillow. He could feel some of his hair stick to his cheek. Felix was sitting next to him on the bed, already dressed for the day, but he was still there. The thought of Felix staying with him, letting him sleep, filled him with a warmth, that spread onto his cheeks. He pushed his face back into the pillow.

Felix snorted. “You drooled into that pillow, you sure you want to rub your face in it?”

Dimitri shrugged and could hear Felix huff with laughter. Then the rustle of clothes as the other got up. Dimitri looked up again, only to be met with his friend’s amused gaze.

“They already brought breakfast for you,” Felix informed him, “Aren’t you spoiled?” there was only humor in his voice, “Getting to eat in bed.”

Dimitri groaned and sat up. The room was surprisingly warm. Someone must have rekindled the fireplace. Breakfast was indeed waiting for him, sitting on a cart next to the bed. Dimitri looked at it in puzzlement.

“I’m surprised I didn’t wake up,” he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. Felix shrugged and sat down cross-legged at the end of the bed, putting him directly across from Dimitri. “You slept like a log. Didn’t even twitch.”

That was almost worrying. He had not managed to sleep that deeply for a long time, but then again, maybe it was the comfort of this place that allowed him to sleep. He didn’t use to wake up when servants went about their business before.

The breakfast is plain, and Dimitri was glad for it, anything fancy would be wasted on him anyways.

Felix’s sharp gaze tracked him as he dug into his meal. He still remembered telling him about it. His own shock and horror when everything tasted the same. Sitting in front of the table and not wanting to eat. Not wanting to feel even, in those early days. Felix had made him, screaming and crying and begging, refusing to leave. Dimitri had eaten. 

Eating in company, especially pleasant company, was always better, he found. By now he sometimes managed to convince himself that he could almost taste something. Especially right now, eating the traditional breakfast that was served almost every day in Fraldarius, he found himself reminiscing about the taste. Could almost taste the sweetness of the apples as they crunched between his teeth. 

“Do you want some?” Dimitri offered.

“Not necessary,” Felix informed him tartly, his gaze going back to whatever book he had been occupying himself with. The spine was familiar, so probably an old favorite. 

“You already ate?” Felix only inclined his head sideways, obviously not keen on that part of the conversation.

“I talked with Dedue yesterday, “ Dimitri began hesitantly, “I… he said he would like to meet you.”

Dedue had said that he would like to meet Dimitri’s dearest friend, who brought him such comfort, but he knew that if he repeated those words back to Felix, the other boy would only get flustered and defensive. 

“...” Felix looked at him for a moment, before looking away again, “I have no interest at meeting him.”

Dimitri… paused. Suddenly wrongfooted and unsure. Had he assumed wrongly? Did Felix…Like Ingrid?

“What’s with that look?” Felix asked him, frowning at Dimitri.

He had no idea what kind of face he was making, so he tried to clear his expression and put on a smile. Felix's lips curled in displease. 

Dimitri let the smile fade, he was not feeling like smiling right now anyway.

“Felix… Do you… Do you blame Dedue?”

They simply looked at each other for a moment. Felix broke it, he was frowning, but, Dimitri noted, it was his confused frown, not the angry frown.

“What?” Felix asked, “Blame him for what?”

Dimitri swallowed.

“Duscur.” 

He could not bring himself to say more. Could not speak the names of all the dead that lay between them.

Felix simply looked at him, unreadable, then he snorted.

“Really?” he asked, his voice just a pitch too high, “You ask me that? _Me_?”

“I—” Dimitri did not know what to answer. They remained in awkward silence and Dimitri went back to his meal. Taking bite after bite almost mechanically.

The almost taste was gone.

“I don’t.” Felix eventually said. Dimitri looked up, but Felix wasn’t looking at him, his gaze instead directed to some point outside the window.

“I wish Duscur never happened. But I’m not stupid enough to believe that he had anything to do with it.”

“Oh,” Dimitri mumbled. He swallowed the remains of the bite he still had in his mouth and before he tried to speak again. The words would not come. He swallowed again. “Good.”

It wasn’t quite what he had wanted to say, but at least he had said something.

Felix only hummed and made himself comfortable in his chair.

Dimitri looked down at his meal. He had almost finished it, but his tea remained untouched. He picked up the mug it was presented in and found himself smiling at it. Leave it to Rodrigue to ensure he would not need to worry about the fine china. He lifted it to his mouth and breathed in deep to figure out which type of tea it was.

The smell was familiar, and it wasn't the tea that Dimitri had expected Rodrigue to have prepared for him. Almyran Pine Needle tea, not chamomile. 

Despite the still heavy mood in the room, Dimitri found his lips curling into a smile. He chuckled, drawing Felix's attention.

For a moment Dimitri considered not voicing his thought, and simply drinking his tea, but he could not see the harm in it.

“Do you want some of the tea Felix?” He asked, taking a sip himself and chuckling at his friend's questioning look. “It’s Almyran pine needle. It seems your father thought of you.”

Dimitri took another sip, relishing in the warmth of the tea in his mouth, and the familiar smell wafting around him. 

Felix hummed, and when Dimitri looked up there was something unreadable on his face. Then he smiled, it was wry and almost sad. “Has he now?” But Felix did not wait for an answer. Instead, he shook his head. “Keep it. You’ll be back to drinking the other stuff soon enough. Enjoy it.”

Dimitri chuckled and did as he was bid.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

He met Rodrigue at lunch, and the duke apologized for having him eat alone again.

“Nonsense, Rodrigue.” Dimitri laughed, “I did not eat alone. Felix kept me company.”

Rodrigue looked at him for a moment without saying anything, then he smiled, “Good.” a pause that was just slightly too long, Rodrigue continued, sounding curious “I hope he behaved himself?”

Dimitri laughed again, feeling strangely lighthearted. It felt good to have a normal conversation like this. Of course, he wished that Felix would talk to his father instead of just ignoring him, or scowling at him, but for now, that was fine. Sooner or later they would make up.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Despite his first impression, Dimitri was forced to realize that Fraldarius had changed since his last visit. 

It was as if it was haunted by ghosts as well, but while the ghosts of Fhirdiad were angry and resentful, the ghosts haunting Fraldarius were sad. Where the servants were still kind and accommodating they carried a sadness with them. It was especially noticeable in Marta, the old cook who oversaw the castle kitchen. She was a round and cheerful woman with ruddy cheeks, and Dimitri had always thought that she had a really nice and easy laugh. She didn’t laugh on this visit, but she still gave Dimitri kind smiles and too many sweets, ensuring Dedue was provided with plenty of recipes after he had shyly inquired after some of them. 

But despite all of that, the week they stayed in Fraldarius was the most enjoyable one Dimitri had had since the tragedy. Sleeping in Felix's room, his friends' presence within arms reach and their finger’s tangled together was a comfort he would miss once they returned to the capital. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

On the last day of his stay in castle Fraldarius, Dimitri went to Rodrigue’s office to personally thank him for welcoming him into his home. When he had inquired with Rodgigue’s assistant he had been informed that the duke had settled into his office to oversee some paperwork, but surely would not mind the prince’s intrusion. 

Dimitri knocked politely and waited to be bid to enter. The invitation came quickly and Dimitri opened the door and stepped inside. Rodrigue was sitting behind his chair, looking over some papers. He seemed surprised at Dimitri’s presence but gestured for him to take a seat in one of the open chairs all the same. 

“Please have a seat, your Highness.”

Dimitri swallowed. “Dimitri is fine.”

The duke paused, then smiled, just a bit sadly, “Of course, Dimitri.” Another pause, “What brings you to my office at this hour?”

Feeling a bit chastened Dimitri gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s not that late Rodrigue, and I could not sleep anyway.”

A scrutinizing gaze was directed at him. “The accommodations were not to your liking?”

“No,” the words came quickly, “No, that’s not it. I have slept better than I have in a long time.” He swallowed, but there was no need to hide that fact from Rodrigue, who had been witness to a number of his nightmares. “I came here to thank you, first for inviting me into your house, and for allowing me to stay in Felix’s rooms. I remember how you always disliked the impropriety of it.”

It was franker than he probably should have been, but if he could not be honest with Rodrigue in matters like this, he did not know who else he could. Something in Rodrigue’s eyes shuttered as Dimitri spoke, but he gave him a smile all the same.

“I do not believe that the propriety of some comfort is something we should be bothered about at this point, your Highness,” A pause, “Dimitri.” Then, “you are always welcome in my home.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri found that this time, his own smile was genuine. He gazed around the office and noted that there was a new painting in the room. The last time he had been in Rodrigue’s office before the tragedy the painting opposite of the duke’s table had depicted the view approaching Fhirdiad from castle Fraldarius. It had been a magnificent painting with stunning colors and compositing that made it possible for the viewer to almost imagine that the wind that sent the banners snapping also stung his cheeks. 

Now that painting was gone, replaced instead by a family portrait.

Dimitri’s breathing stuttered as he gazed upon it. It was Rodrigue and his family. Him and his wife Matilda, whom Dimitri had only vague memories of, as her health did not permit her to travel, as well as their two sons.

From the image, Glenn gazed back at him, younger than he had been when he died, but not by much, and older than he should have been when his mother had died. It was eerie to see Glenn’s face like that, smiling if wryly, not twisted in pain and horror or hatred. Without the blood and the burns. Without the red glow of the fires reflecting in his blue eyes. Dimitri’s breathing stuttered and he forced his gaze away towards Felix. 

At the sight of his friend in the image something he could not identify rushed through him, but it was hot and heady and wrong. He spoke before he could deliberate his words.

“Why are Felix’s eyes blue?”

“What?” Rodrigue sounded surprised and upset, “No, he inherited his mother’s amber eyes.”

Dimitri swallowed and gestured towards the painting. “Not there.”

Rodrigue turned towards the painting, then he laughed, it wasn’t a pleasant sound, but instead, sounded just a bit broken.

“Thank you.” He said, “For pointing it out. I will have it fixed tomorrow.”

Dimitri did not quite understand how Rodrigue had not noticed it before, but maybe he, unlike Dimitri could face the ones he had lost head-on, and Felix who was still among them, was not in his sight when he looked at the painting. 

Somehow, that thought was less pleasant than it could have been. 

He chose to nod, instead of saying something that he might regret later. They sat in silence for a moment Rodrigue sipping at his tumbler, before he sighed deeply. Dimitri looked at him and found him instead gazing at the painting. At Felix, if Dimitri judged the direction of his eyes correctly. 

“Did you know that we might have been family once upon a time?”

Dimitri blinked, taken aback, and he must have shown the surprise on his face quite clearly because Rodrigue caught his eye and laughed. 

“Matilda and your mother discovered they were pregnant quite close to one another, and we thought about betrothing our children should they be a boy and girl respectively. Of course, after Felix was born there was no time for any disappointments I might have had.”

“What do you mean?” Dimitri found himself asking. 

“When he was born Felix was quite sick. Matilda had come down with the sickness, and for a long time I feared I would lose them both… but they were fighter’s both of them. Felix especially, even when he was… so young. Though most would not have expected it of him.”

Dimitri thought about that for a moment. Felix was a crybaby, or he had been before the tragedy, he did not seem keen on being the center of attention then, instead stepping back to let someone else take charge, still...

“I would not change Felix for the world.”

Rodrigue smiled at him, tired but genuine, but still so sad. “No,” he agreed, “Both of my sons were perfect the way they were. If only…”

He trailed off gazing at the picture.

 _Those are useless thoughts_ , his father insisted suddenly at his side again when the ghosts had been quiet for most of his visit, _the focus should be on how to get our vengeance, not old thoughts and would have beens_.

 _Ifs and buts and would have beens_ , his stepmother added her voice poisonous, _will get you nowhere. You know what you need to do._

Dimitri swallowed and turned back to the painting. The conversation between him and Rodrigue after that did not start up again, and Dimitri left soon after, wishing the duke a good evening.

That night, he did not sleep peacefully and even Felix’s hand gripping his as he tried to go back to sleep after jerking awake did not help him find any true rest.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

The incident that would later be called the Western Rebellion was a disaster. Not only did it showcase the instability of Faerghus, but it also showed Dimitri that he was not the person he should be. The fury had smoldered inside of him from the moment he got word of the trouble. Banked at first, because the general consensus at court was that the mess would be settled before anything could really come of it. Still, even then Dimitri slept worse than usual. He woke up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep, or unable to sleep at all. The ghosts got louder and louder, harder to push aside when the living required his presence.

The mess, or so his uncle had referred to it, was not settled. Instead, for the first time since they had scoured Duscur to ashes, the holy kingdom of Faerghus called its banners.

Rufus stayed in Fhirdiad, and Dimitri himself set out. He did not know where his need to do so came from. Rodrigue’s troops met them halfway, led by the duke himself. Dimitri could not bring himself to give him more than a tight smile.

The whole journey he felt something inside of him clawing at him, He gripped the reins of his horse too tightly. He shattered two lances and dented his own gauntlets. The ghosts got louder and louder, questioning, demanding, commanding. The tension rose and rose and rose. Then, on the battlefield, it snapped.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

He came back to himself standing in the middle of a ring of corpses. Something sticky on his face, and with his hair clinging to his skin. His chest was heaving with deep, noisy breath, and even as Dimitri grasped the lance in his hand tightly, he felt unmoored.

The lance he noted somewhat distantly, was bent, its tip all but useless, but dripping with blood, and what looked like the remains of someone’s innards. His free hand looked much the same.

Dimitri swallowed, his throat like sandpaper and he looked around himself. To his surprise, he was not alone. Felix stood not six feet away from him, sword sheathed and arms crossed, a tight look on his sickly pale face. When Dimitri took a step in his direction, he did not step back. He did not look comfortable, however.

“Are you back with us?” Felix’s voice was sharp, “Done rampaging like some rabid boar?”

They had seen a rabid boar once, back when they were younger. The royal knights had closed rank around them, but they had seen it brought down all the same. Dimitri swallowed again, it did not help the tight feeling. He opened his mouth for a moment, but no words came out, instead, he gave a jerking nod.

Some of the tension in Felix went out, Dimitri attempted a smile. It was not returned, instead, Felix’s expression twitched strangely and his eyes flickered away for a moment, and back to him again. Dimitri watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Good.” then, “Keep your fangs in your mouth. But...Wipe your face. You look like you feasted on your enemies. ”

A shudder of revulsion went through Dimitri at the thought. He gazed back at the corpses. They hadn’t died cleanly. Crushed bones and dented armor. A hacked-off leg, and an arm that looked as if it had been torn from the socket. A fleshy mess where a face should be.

As if in trance, Dimitri raised his own hand and looked at it as if in a trance. He could imagine what had happened.

“Dimitri,” Felix called him almost gently, but he did not react, continued staring at his hand. “Boar!” This time Felix’s voice was a snap, a demand of attention, and Dimitri looked up.

Felix’s lips were tightly pressed together, but he was closer than he had been before, easy within arms reach. Dimitri dropped his lance and folded his hands behind him, clutching one wrist with his hand. The pressure was painful. 

“That’s what you react to?” Felix said incredulously, then he laughed, an uncomfortable, almost hysterical edge to it. “Alight, a boar it is then.”

He let out a breath, Dimitri could hear it stutter. He wondered if Felix was going to start crying, maybe it would bring Dimitri out if this strange sense of calm he was in. It did not feel like an appropriate reaction. Felix crying had never allowed him to be calm, but just this once, he would welcome it.

Felix stepped closer still. Gestured towards his face. “Wipe your face, Dimitri.”

“Not boar?” Dimitri found himself asking before he could think better of it. His mind was still foggy, but he found that the more Felix talked, the more he listened, the more he came back to himself.

Felix jaw clenched, Dimitri could see the muscle at the side of his face tightening. He wondered if it would snap under his fingers if he were to touch it. He did not dare to try.

“Boar. Wipe your face.” Felix sounded strange. He had never sounded like that before, and Dimitri did not like it. He reached up to his face but the sight of the blood on his gauntlet made him stop. He looked from his hand to Felix who glanced away when their gazes met. His voice still sounded strange when he answered the question Dimitri had not voiced.

“Use your cloak.”

Dimitri nodded.

“Of course, Felix.” And he smiled, fangs hidden, lips closed. And reached for his cloak, hoping that the inside at least would help him clean up a little. Felix wanted him to, but even as he did so, Felix did not seem happy.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix followed him back to his tent, a steadying presence at his back, and Dimitri could not stop himself from looking back at him every few steps. The sight of him was like an anchor, a welcome chain that stopped him from drifting up. Felix looked almost pristine, even as he walked across the muddy field. His boots might be dirty, but unlike Dimitri, he was not covered in blood.

To Dimitri’s surprise, Felix did not follow him into the tent and instead stated that he had business to attend to. It sent a stab of guilt through him, he imagined that Felix was probably off to see and report to Rodrigue now. The duke must be worried. Felix had remained at his side through the fighting, and Dimitri had, against all advice, been in the thick of it. The longer it took Felix to return, the less clear Rodrigue would be on his son’s safety. Dimitri had already cost Rodrigue one son, and so, despite his desire to the contrary, Dimitri did not ask for Felix to stay with him.

Thankfully, he was not alone in the tent. Dedue was waiting for him. The boy from Duscur had not been allowed to take part in the fighting. Not only was he unpracticed in battle, as he, unlike Dimitri and most of his peers, had not been trained to fight since he was a child. Even the hard training he had undergone recently had not changed is inexperience. But there was also the issue that many of the knights had with fighting alongside a person of Duscur.

Dimitri had hated it, and he would have taken Dedue with him regardless, had Rodrigue not cautioned him that battlefields were a dangerous and confusing place. It was likely that the rebels would not be the only danger his friend would have faced on the battlefield.

That alone had almost made Dimitri mad with rage. Only Dedue’s calm words had kept him from breaking something.

Now, in the aftermath, Dimitri was sure that it was part of what had made him snap.

“Your Highness,” Dedue greeted him as he stepped into the tent. The other boy had been sitting on one of the chairs that the royal tent was provided with, but at Dimitri’s entrance, he rose to his feet. Dark green eyes took in his state, cataloging the blood and noting the lack of injuries. “I’m glad to see you unharmed.” he eventually said with a slight smile.

Dimitri attempted to return the gesture, but he knew it came off more than a grimace. Dedue frowned slightly. “Shall I prepare a bath, your Highness?”

Dimitri shook his head. “No, just some water to wash. Thank you.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. Even inside the gauntlets, his hands were sticky with blood, he could feel them stick to the inside of his gloves.

Dedue worked quickly, and before Dimitri could decide what he wanted to do now that he was in his tent, the other boy helped him remove his armor. It was rather telling that, just like his hands in his gauntlets, his underclothes too were drenched with blood.

Once the chest plate was removed, Dedue hesitated.

“Are you sure you are unharmed, your Highness?”

Dimitri hated to hear the worry in his voice. On that battlefield, he had probably been the person in the least amount of danger, driven by animal instinct and desperate guards striving to keep him safe. He noted rather numbly that he did not know where his guards were.

“I am not. This is not my blood.”

Dedue hesitated again. “Were demonic beasts on the battlefield?”

There were legends about them savaging people, even in Duscur it seemed, beasts that could pick up a man and shake him in their jaws, letting their blood fall from the sky like rain.

Dimitri felt his lips curl slightly even knowing that it wasn’t an appropriate reaction.

“The only beast was me.”

Dedue paused, looked at him, the frown even more pronounced, and a spark of confusion in his eyes.

“Your Highness?”

“I slaughtered them,” Dimitri informed him almost conversationally, “ripped them limb from limb and all but bathed in their blood.”

He did not know why he told Dedue. Maybe it was because others deserve to know what kind of man he had sworn himself to, what kind of man he had chosen to follow.

So he did tell, but Dedue did not turn away. Where he had expected horror and disgust, he found steady resolve and unbroken loyalty. His treatment of Dimitri did not change. He went through his duties with the same efficiency and competence that Dimitri had learned was part of who he was. He did not shy away from him, and when he left it was with a smile, bloody gauntlets in his hands, and a reassurance that he would return with something to eat soon.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix returned shortly after Dedue had left. From the look on his face, Dimitri could tell that something had irritated him greatly. Dimitri had rarely seen Felix look so genuinely angry. Though surprisingly, his friend did not speak about what sparked his anger. Instead, he leaned against one of the poles holding up the tent, and instructed him to wash, and put on the clean clothes that Dedue had laid out for him. The generals, especially Rodrigue, would like to see him for a meal, Felix told him, to ensure that he was unharmed.

Dimitri did begin to wash himself, but he could hardly look at his own hands caked in blood. Despite wearing his gauntlets they were nasty, now, even more so than earlier, because the blood had dried and caked his skin like brown flakes.

Each time Dimitri dunked his hands into the water and rubbed them, the water got pinker and pinker. He did not want to know how it would look once he had cleaned himself completely. Or what his bathwater would look the next time. He needed something to distract himself, and Felix was still frowning.

“Felix?” Dimitri asked, “What’s wrong?”

Felix shook his head, his lips still pressed into a tight furious line. Even now, years after Duscur it was sometimes jarring to look at Felix and realize that the easy smiles of their childhood were gone, and angry and irritated expressions had become much more common (that and sadness).

“It’s nothing.”

Dimitri glanced at the water, glanced up again. “It’s not nothing. You are obviously upset. What happened?”

Felix stared at him, and suddenly Dimitri realized that whatever Felix was angry about, Dimitri himself was part of it.

“Oh?” Felix said, “I’m upset?” he laughed, but it was joyless and mocking, “Now, what is there to be upset about?”

His friend straightened from his slouch, fists balling at his side, but he remained standing away from Dimitri.

“Maybe I’m afraid that my friend threw himself into a battle like a maniac? Slaughtering people and laughing?” Felix's voice rose, gaining a frantic edge, “Taking swipes at me when I tried to approach him?”

Dimitri felt sick.

“Maybe it’s because I—” but he did not finish that sentence. Felix pressed his lips even tighter together—but Dimitri had spotted the wobble—and turned away, the knuckles of his clenched fists turning white. Dimitri heard him take a deep breath, saw his shoulders rise and fall. When Felix turned around again there was a nasty look on his face (like Glenn’s face, aiming to hurt). Dimitri opened his mouth, but Felix was faster.

“Maybe it’s because I just had the pleasure of overhearing your duscan dog swear eternal loyalty to you, and how keen he is to join you on your bloody crusade.”

“You haven’t even met him!” Dimitri snapped back incensed on behalf of his friend, dropping the washbasin. It clattered onto the floor, water spilling out and drenching the ground, and splattering on Dimitri’s pant legs. Neither of them reacted.

Felix barked a laugh, it was an ugly, nasty sound, matching the twist of his lips. “So? What does it matter? I heard what he said. It’s disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” Dimitri repeated incredulous, “Felix, he is a person.”

Felix laughed again, short and sharp. “Is he? He certainly doesn't sound like it, more like a good dog, willing to follow any order. Or maybe he does sound human,” There was a mocking tint to Felix’s voice now. “That’s right. His arguments did sound familiar… When did I hear them?”

Dimitri did not know what Felix was aiming for, but even angry as he was, he knew that he would not like whatever would come out of his mouth next.

“Your Highness, you represent the hope for the people of Duscur.” Felix echoed mockingly. The words that Dedue had spoken with such genuine loyalty tumbling from Felix's lips like poison. His mouth still curled derisively. “As such, I will follow wherever you lead. No matter how bloody the battlefield. The enemies you face will be my enemies, and I will slay them without hesitation. You will have justice for your people and though you, I will have mine.”

Felix paused for a second.

“Doesn’t he just sound like the loyal knights of Faeghus. Willing to give their all in the memory of their king? Revenge for their fallen brothers and sisters?”

Dimitri had no words, but Felix, it seemed, had plenty.

“Marching onwards with righteous hearts to slay the people of Duscur.” Another laugh, no kinder than the others, but far more mocking. “He fits right in, doesn’t he.”

They were silent for a moment, the noises from the camp around them a distant thing, and the loudest sound was Dimitri’s own heartbeat ringing in his ears. Felix's anger seemed to have left him for the moment. 

“What will you do, Dimitri? I know you want revenge. Want the people behind Duscur dead, but how do you think you will reach that goal? In the minds of the people, they are already avenged.”

Dimitri opened his mouth, closed it, and clenched his fists. He took a deep breath, listened keenly, but for once, the ghosts were silent. Waiting for his answer. He knew he could not disappoint them.

“They are not avenged. I know it and I will find out who was responsible and kill them.”

Felix did not seem convinced. The ghosts were still waiting. Voice rough and half a growl, Dimitri continued. “I will do whatever is necessary to see it done.”

“And how are you going to do that? Charge into battle blindly? Lose yourself to bloodlust?” Felix hissed viciously, “Murder innocents? Children and women and innocent bystanders… what if they get in your way? Will you kill them? Or worse,” Felix's voice faltered if only briefly, but he carried on. “Throw your life away?”

“If my life is what I need to pay to see it done. I will.” Dimitri said solemnly, imploring Felix to understand. “The dead are owned no less.”

“You don’t get to do that.” Felix's voice brokered no argument. If anything, he looked angrier than before.

“Because I am the Prince?” Dimitri snapped back, “Because Fearghus needs its future king?”

Something in Felix's expression cracked, hurt flashing across his face, and immediately Dimitri wanted to backtrack. Suddenly, he remembered the words Felix had said years ago on top of the goddess tower and again on the bride. The promise he had made. A promise that had meant so much to Dimitri, and now, he had thrown it in Felix’s face. He opened his mouth to— he wasn’t sure, apologize, take the words back, ask for forgiveness or— but he did not get to do any of these.

It was Felix who acted first. Dimitri could see the shift in his expression, could almost see the walls come up, saw the vulnerability leave his face. A courtly mask, fit for the son of a noble house stared back at him from the face of his dearest and oldest friend. The one friend in front of whom Dimitri himself had never needed to wear the mask of the prince.

“Do what you want.” Felix spat. Then he turned on his heel, dark hair flaring behind him and left. If this had been a castle, Dimitri was sure the sound of the door falling shut behind him would have been deafening in its finality.

Instead, Dimitri was left standing in the tent, waiting for an end that did not come, unmoored, unchained, lost, and alone until the ghosts returned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part before canon starts! Enjoy Dedue, Rodrigue, Sylvain (and Felix).  
> Content warning: Dimitri has a panic attack at the beginning of the chapter.

Felix rarely visited Fhirdiad after their fight, but somehow he always managed to be there— abrasive and angry—when Dimitri needed him most. That was mostly the case during formal functions. No matter how much Dimitri hated it, he could not always keeps Dedue by his side without undermining his position as crown prince. His lords hated the man from Duscur, no matter how Dimitri argued that Dedue was his age, and had nothing to do with the tragedy at all. He had tried to bring Dedue along once, but the vitriol directed at the other boy, cushioned and concealed as it might have been, had made Dimitri terribly anxious and guilty, especially because he had not known what to do to shield Dedue. Even Rodrigue, when Dimitri had asked him, had only been able to tell him that sometimes the best thing you could do was remove yourself from the situation.

Removing himself from situations that harmed him was something that Dimitri struggled with. Especially informal functions where everyone wanted a piece of his time and attention. It had always been part of formal functions of course, even back when his father was still alive and there to draw people to him like moths to the flame. But now, even with his uncle the regent in attendance, he was the one of whom all the attention—and expectation—rested.

Today was one such function, not the first since the rebellion had been put down, but certainly the largest since his father’s death. Many of the lords were pleased with the strength Dimitri had shown in putting down the rebellion, pleased even more so since they had not expected him to be able to do so. As soon as the festivities began—for an occasion he could not remember, but would probably not consider worth celebrating—the lords and ladies swarmed him. It seemed like everyone wanted to introduce him to someone. A sister, a daughter, a cousin, a granddaughter. 

Dimitri knew what they were aiming for, but the thought of it made him sick, and as the evening went one he struggled to keep the smile on his face. The voices of the visitors mixed with those of the dead, surrounding him with a cacophony of noise that made it difficult to distinguish individual voices. His stepmother hissed something, vitriol spilled from Glenn’s lips like the blood had in Duscur, across from him the lord’s lips moved, but Dimitri had trouble hearing anything over the rapid breathing of his own heart. 

His smile remained. The lord across from him turned to address his neighbor, they could have been laughing or cursing or singing, it all mashed together in the ringing of his head.

“Come,” A voice cut through the noise. The cadence was familiar and trusted, but still, Dimitri could not breathe. Almost mechanically, Dimitri turned his head slightly to the right. Standing between the new Lord Kleinman and a Lady he had been trying to introduce to Dimitri, was Felix. Dressed in formal clothes, much like the ones he had worn as a child, but with the cloak that used to adorn Glenn’s shoulders. Glenn stood behind him, gleaming in his blood-splattered armor, and arrow poking from his shoulder like the feather’s on one of the ladies' dresses. 

“Excuse yourself,” Felix instructed him, voice sharp and allowing no argument, but directed only at Dimitri, “And follow me.”

Dimitri did as bid. His father said something about running away, Glenn laughed mockingly, the stomps of the dead Lion’s Guards boots mixed with the music in the ballroom and Dimitri—

Dimitri followed Felix. 

Felix led him through the room, stopping when people approached Dimitri that he could not snuff. Over the racing of his heart, the shortness of his breath, and the blackness encroaching on his vision, Dimitri could not make out the faces of the people around them. But Felix had grown up with him, he knew them all, and the words that spilled from Dimitri’s lips were only repeating what Felix had already mumbled to him.

Eventually, they left the ballroom. The guards at the side of the grand doorway—new and not like the ones still following behind him, covered in blood and missing limbs—stood at attention, Felix told him to dismiss them, and so he did. 

On they went, how slow or fast they walked Dimitri could not say. His vision was dimming further and he kept his eyes resolutely fixed on Felix’s back in front of him, matched his breathing to the sway of his friend’s ponytail. Eventually, cold air hit his face. Eventually, Felix came to a stop and turned around. Amber eyes fixed intently on Dimitri. 

“Breath.” He commanded in the same tone he had told Dimitri how to excuse himself and how to dismiss the people around him. Following this direction, was much harder, however. 

Each time he tried to breathe in, it seemed like his whole being struggled against the idea of it. Yet, Dimitri persevered, pinned as he was under Felix's gaze it felt like there was no escape. The hold the gaze had on him was stronger than the ghosts still clamoring around him and demanding his actions. He matched his friends breathing and struggled to follow along with Felix firm instructions to breathe in, to breathe out.

He did not know how long they stood there. Felix repeating the same words over and over again, and him, struggling to comply. But slowly but surely, his struggle paid off. Eventually, his breathing came easier and he felt the relief as the air rushed into his lungs. Felix’s mantra continued and though Dimitri no longer needed it, he followed along taking comfort in the repetitiveness. 

However, he could not allow himself that comfort for long, eventually he shook himself out of the daze and gave Felix a slight smile. His friend’s nose wrinkled and he pursed his lips, but no cutting comment followed.

“Better?” His tone was bland, but Dimitri knew him well enough to hear the concern under it. His smile became a little bit more real.

“Yes,” It was an admission that Dimitri wasn’t sure he would have been able to make to anyone else, “Thank you, Felix. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He expected a scoff which always seemed to follow him complimenting his friend these days, he expected an eye roll or a dismissive shake of his head, he did not expect Felix's mouth to purse as if in pain. For his gaze to flicker completely away from him and to direct it somewhere far from him, not just to break eye contact.

“Felix?” Dimitri asked, but he got no verbal response, Felix just shook his head. 

They stood in silence, and Dimitri allowed himself a moment to look around to figure out where his friend had let him. Dimitri felt tired and lethargic, with his limbs too heavy for his body and weighted down by exhaustion as if he had trained for hours, and which was likely the reason it took him so long to identify his location. 

They were on the balcony overlooking the inner private courtyard. The one that only the royal family and their most intimate guests used. The balcony itself could only be entered from the hallway not far from the Fraldarius family's chambers. His father and Rodrigue had sat here often while he and his friends had played in the garden below. 

A garden, which was overgrown and somewhat neglected. The last person to look after it had been his stepmother. Dimitri swallowed at the thought, braced himself for the voice full of vitriol and chastisement, but for once the ghosts remained silent. Maybe his ears too were too tired for him to hear even the voices of the dead. 

With a sight, Dimitri leaned against the wall and sunk down along it. He could feel Felix’s gaze on him, but could not bring himself to look away from the garden below. There were no flowers blooming right now, instead, everything was covered in a thin layer of snow. It made sense, given that it was the latter half of the Ethereal Moon. 

Felix sunk down on the floor next to him and leaned his shoulder against his. Dimitri leaned into the contact and shuffled so he could lean his head on top of Felix’s own. His friend did not push him away, instead, he seemed to lean into the contact.

“Sylvain is here,” Felix informed him, “You should go meet him tomorrow. He tried to catch your eye all evening.”

Dimitri thought about it, he had not even noticed that his old friend was in attendance. He had not truly met Sylvain in years. Sometimes, they had met at events, where they were both guests and could hardly have a true conversation, but mainly they had written each other letters. Letters that had become ever more formal and impersonal the more time had passed since their last meeting.

He hummed, it wasn’t agreement, but it wasn’t a refusal either. Seeing Sylvain… did not sound bad. 

“Will you join us too?”

Felix paused, then he shook his head minutely, not enough to dislodge, or truly disturb Dimitri’s head resting on his own. 

“No, I have plans. You’ll have to deal with him on your own.”

Dimitri found himself chuckling. 

“I’m sure Sylvain would like to see you, too Felix.”

“... That’s not my problem.”

Dimitri breathed out, enjoying the quiet of just sitting with Felix like this. The private courtyard was far enough from the ballroom that the only sounds he could make out were the faintest traces of the music still being played. Likely, louder now that it had been earlier. The dancing must have started.

“You should tell my father that you can’t deal with people like that.” Felix’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. 

Dimitri stopped breathing for a second and burrowed further into Felix's side. His friend made a small sound of displeasure when Dimitri’s elbow poked into his side, but he shifted to make room for him all the same. 

“It is not that,” Dimitri said after a probably too long pause, grappling for the words, “It is… just hard.”

Felix stayed silent.

“I know these events are important. They keep the nobles connected and allow them to make themselves heart. They keep the kingdom together,” He knew he was just repeating the words of his former tutors, tutors that Felix had on occasion shared with him. But he knew they were true, that this was his duty. And so long as they did not interfere with the other demands laid at his feet, he would not shy away from them. His hands gripped his leg and he gripped it bruisingly tight. It was grounding. 

Felix made a noise of displeasure and Dimitri let go of his leg immediately, hands hanging uselessly in the air in front of him. The gauntlets gleamed in the moonlight. Felix’s own hand rose and pressed first one, then the other hand down again, so they were resting in Dimitri's lap. He did not remove his and after he had done so, instead he left it laying on Dimitri’s own. It couldn’t be a comfortable way to sit, but Felix’s face when Dimitri chanced a quick glance at it, gave nothing away. Through the metal of the gauntlet, he could not feel Felix’s touch, but he fixed his gaze on it. Felix’s hand, long-fingered and elegant like his own had never been, resting on the metal. It was the closest he had come to holding his hand since the rebellion.

“I just wish,” he added after another pause, gaze still on their hands, “That it did not have to be a celebration every time. It feels wrong.”

Felix hummed, “Wrong to celebrate?”

Dimitri grimaced. The truth of it was that the answer to that was yes. It felt wrong to him, but he knew that letting his own mood ruin something other people enjoyed would be the wrong thing to do. The ghosts agreed. They did not like the needless pandering and talking. It brought them—and him—no closer to letting them rest in peace. 

“To celebrate when there is nothing to celebrate.” He finally said.

“Nothing to celebrate?” Felix laughed, it was a joyless sound, but he did not pull his hand from Dimitri’s. The sound of the laughter echoed strangely in the alcove around them. It was not a sound Dimitri liked. A weight settled uncomfortably in his stomach. 

“Felix?” He asked, voice sounding small even to his own ears. His friend laughed again, sounding pained, but he did not answer. Instead, Felix pressed closer into Dimitri’s side and let out a deep breath. 

“...It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it…” A joyless snort, “Just something  _ I _ remembered.” 

It did not feel like the true answer, but he knew that from Felix’s tone that if he wanted the real answer it would take a lot of work to pry it out of his friend. And… Dimitri… was so tired. 

He let the almost answer stand between them and made himself as comfortable as he could sitting on the ground. His cloak was warm enough that he did not feel the chill of the winter air too keenly. Dimitri closed his eyes, pushed away the distant sound of the music, ignored, if only for the moment, the whispers of the dead, and breathed. 

He dozed off after a while to the sound of Felix’s breathing. In his half-sleep he thought he heard Felix sight, then he felt something brush against his forehead, feather-soft and almost not there. “Happy birthday.” Felix might have said, but Dimitri was already too far away to respond. 

He was woken up from his doze maybe an hour later, Rodrigue gently shaking his shoulder, a pinched look on his face. Felix was gone. But then again, his friend had probably been the one who returned to the ballroom to fetch Rodrigue. Dimitri gave the duke a weak smile and it was returned. Then, Rodrigue led him the rather short distance to his own room, his hand stayed on his shoulder the whole way—a steadying weight.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Rodrigue was in Fhirdiad a lot, and it made Dimitri wonder if it was part of the reason Felix was so angry with him. Sometimes, Dimitri wanted to ask Felix, ask Rodrigue, ask his father and mother and Glenn and all the ghosts demanding vengeance, but he was too afraid to do so. It made him feel guilty, but the thought of Rodrigue being around less was a terrifying one. Because above all else, from the very beginning, Rodrigue had been a shielding presence between him and the court. He stepped in when Dimitri was feeling overwhelmed, he provided him with background information on the disputes and he informed Dimitri of the going-ons in the kingdom. Whenever there was a fight, Dimitri knew that if there were more layers to it—past grievances or rivalries—that he did not know about on account of his age, Rodrigue would find a way to tell him. 

He showed Dimitri how to organize his work, what he had to do himself, and what he could and should delegate. He helped him organize outings and expenses and showed him what he had to pay attention to inside his household. 

Officially, Dimitri’s uncle was regent, but Rufus only checked up on him once in a while, informed him of what had happened, and then left again. They had never been close even before the tragedy, but it seemed that with the death of his father Rufus actually wanted to remove himself from the court entirely. Once, Dimitri had overheard an argument between Rodrigue and Rufus, where Rufus had told the duke to take the regency into his own hands, that Rodrigue was better suited for it, that Rufus just wanted to be done with all of this mess. Rodrigue hadn’t been pleased, had accused his uncle of shrinking his duty. The argument had carried on after that, but since the two men had moved to a more private location Dimitri had not heard more of it. 

Felix did not join Dimitri in any of the lessons he had with his father, even when he was around. If Dimitri saw him it was in the privacy of his own quarters—Felix had never had any trouble with waltzing into Dimitri’s space, and he was thankful that it held true even now—or on the training yard. 

Training was different with Ser Gustave gone. And it wasn’t only Ser Gustave, but also most of the senior members of the Lion’s Guard, many of which had been familiar figures all his life—and even now remained with him as ghosts urging him to give them vengeance, present but not—were gone.

The ghosts rarely bothered to talk to Dimitri when he was training, they, just as he did, knew that it was essential for him to be as strong as possible. His combat training was not something they would begrudge him or urge him away from, so long as he gave it his all. 

Combat training was ironically the most peaceful and relaxing part of his day.

The day after the ball Dimitri went to the training yard early. Except for the guards on duty and some servants he did not meet anyone on his way there. Most of the nobles were likely still asleep after the late evening yesterday. 

Dimitri hoped to find Felix in the training grounds for a spar, knowing that his friend was an early riser. Sadly, Felix wasn’t around, so Dimitri instead settled on doing drills. Doing drills was monotonous and repetitive, it allowed him to shut off his thoughts and just move. Not as engaging as sparring with a partner, but it also did not require him to extend as much control over his strength. Under the right circumstances, it was relaxing. 

He wasn’t sure how long he did so, but by the time he came to a stop his arms arched pleasantly and he was breathing heavily. The sun was clear in the sky, and Dimitri could make out the sounds of weapons clanging together in one of the other yards. It was still early, he judged by the location of the sun, but he should get himself cleaned up soon, otherwise, he would find himself swarmed again. Dimitri did not think he was ready for that yet. The tightness that had settled on him was mostly gone by now, and although he had slept poorly after Rodrigue had delivered him to his room, he had slept. 

Somewhat enthusiastic clapping drew him from his thoughts. Startled, Dimitri turned around, lance still in hand, only to be greeted by the sight of Dedue and Sylvain standing at the side of the yard. Dedue looked unreadable, something worried in his gaze as he looked at Dimitri, and he could only assume that it was, once again, worried over his sleep schedule. Sylvain was the one clapping.

“Good morning, your highness! You are up early.” Sylvain greeted him with enthusiasm and a smile that Dimitri had trouble categorizing. Still, he found himself smiling back. Though he wondered what had caused Sylvain to get up at this time, he knew that his friend liked sleeping in, especially after events such as the one yesterday. And for partygoers, the hour was indeed still early. 

“Sylvain, Dedue. Good morning.”

At his greeting, the two made their way over to him. Dimitri was somewhat surprised to notice that they were almost the same size. Sylvain had gotten a lot taller and less gangly since he had last seen him. But then, Sylvain was eighteen now, and adult according to the laws of the kingdom.

“How long have you been training?” Sylvain asked him cheerfully once they reached him, while Dedue bowed slightly. 

“Ah,” Dimitri paused to consider, but he had no true idea how long he had been awake. He did not have the proper answer already. “Not too long. I woke up rather early and wanted to do some training.”

By the looks on their faces, neither of the two believed him, but they did not call him out of it. Though by the slight frown on Dedue’s face, Dimitri had caused him to worry again.

Then Sylvain’s stomach growled. Unlike most in such a situation, however, the redhead showed no trace of embarrassment, instead, he slung an arm around Dimitri’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

“Time for breakfast!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “Have you eaten yet, your highness?” He continued before Dimitri could answer. “No, excellent. Then let’s eat together! Training works up an appetite after all” Sylvain grinned, first at him, then at Dedue as well, “You too, Dedue, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Dedue inclined his head in agreement, he did not argue. In fact, Dimitri swore he could make out the faintest traces of a smile on his face instead. “Certainly.” 

Neither of them waited for Dimitri’s agreement. Instead, Dedue went off to order their meal, and Sylvain, arm still around his shoulder dragged him off the training ground.

The arm that Sylvain slung across his shoulder was familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him so casually, more so since someone had manhandled him. 

“Were you hoping to meet Felix too?” Dimitri asked, hoping to distract himself, and knowing that the two of them liked spending time together and that Felix, more so than Dimitri, had always been in the training grounds early.

Sylvain paused and turned to look at him. He was smiling, but it wasn’t Sylvain’s usual smile. 

“Oh no,” he said, with humor in his voice that sounded false, he continued, however, before Dimitri could inquire. Dimitri wondered if they had had a fight as well. Felix could carry grudges for a long time, though Dimitri at least was thankful that despite their fight, Felix still… stuck around. 

“I was actually planning on seeing you, your highness. We didn’t get to talk at your party yesterday,” Sylvain’s gaze was keen, “And we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

At the end of the sentence Sylvain smiled slightly, it was a sad, but honest smile. They had only met at formal functions since Duscur—that, and the Miklan incident—but those hardly counted as meetings between friends.

Dimitri smiled back, he pushed yesterday's celebration from his mind.

“I am glad to see you as well. It is a shame you did not join me earlier. We could have spared.” 

Sylvain chuckled. “Sorry, your highness, I don’t think I’m up for your level of sparring.”

Dimitri smiled, though he did not believe Sylvain’s answer. Sylvain was talented in many areas, but for some reason never wished to apply himself. 

“Well, let's get out of here,” He gave an exaggerated shudder, “Before my father sees me here and decides to get in some extra training.”

And with that Dimitri found himself shepherded through the castle to the sitting room adjacent to his own room. He had not spent much time here recently. This had been where he and his friends used to play, except for Felix who had no trouble walking into his private chambers, but since the meeting with Ingrid after Duscur, he had only been in here once or twice.

The room had not changed, nor did it look abandoned. Someone, probably Dedue, or one of the older castle staff, had even made sure that fresh flowers were in the vase on the table. 

Sylvain slumped into one of the seats with the familiarity of someone who had been there before. It brought a smile to Dimitri’s face and he took a seat across from his friend. Sylvain chatted on about rumors he had heard, mostly scandal talk that was of no direct consequence to Dimitri at the moment, and about some trouble he had gotten into with Lord Gwendal’s daughter that he had only escaped due to Ingrid’s steadfast interference. Though Sylvain insisted that the lord had been overreacting. 

Dedue arrived back with a meal for them rather quickly, and thankfully, after both Dimitri and Sylvain insisted on it, he joined them as well. There was relief, settling deep into Dimitri, relief that one of his old friends had no problem interacting with Dedue, and even showed interest in him, asking him questions about how he settled in and how he liked the cuisine. Dimitri found himself unsurprised that the person in question was Sylvain, the redhead had always been the most even-tempered and easy-going among them. 

“So, what have you been up to recently?” Sylvain asked while they served themselves. 

Dimitri paused unsure how to answer that, likely seeing his hesitance Sylvain continued, “Lord Rodrigue has been keeping you busy?”

Dimitri smiled slightly. “Yes, he has been a great help. There is so much,” he paused, “Well, I would not have known where to start. He and the grand duke take care of a lot of the stuff, but he makes sure I keep up my studies.”

Sylvain hummed in encouragement. 

“I still like the martial training best,” Dimitri confessed and was pleased to see the humor flicker across his friend's face, “But that is sadly not all I need to learn.”

They together chuckled for a moment, before Dimitri continued hesitantly, wanting a second opinion on something that. Well.

“Felix is not around much.” He paused, and so did Sylvain across from him. “We don't really train together anymore, and, well. Rodrigue is here a lot.” Dimitri looked down at his meal. “Do you think Felix… resents that?”

Sylvain was silent for a moment, and Dimitri could hear Dedue stop eating as well. He felt a moment of unease, the other boy must be uncomfortable with the topic at hand, especially since Felix refused to meet him still. Dimitri did not think that Felix sporadic appearances in Fhirdiad were due to the boy from Duscur, and he did not want Dedue to think so either. 

“No,” Sylvain said eventually, his voice strangely tight, but reassuring in the way he somehow always managed to be when his friends needed him to be, “No, I don’t think Felix would be angry about something like that.” A pause, “If he were,“ Sylvain added with what sounded like forced humor to Dimitri, “We would all hear about it, I’m sure.”

There was some truth to that, Dimitri acknowledged. Felix never had any trouble making his grievances known. Like after the rebellion. Part of Dimitri wanted to ask Sylvain about that as well, but he could not bring himself to speak of it. The memory of the western rebellion was not a pleasant one. 

He heard Sylvain take a deep breath, but still did not look up. 

“Are you looking forward to the academy, your highness?” Sylvain said then, suddenly cheerful again. And Dimitri looked up in surprise. Sylvain waggled his eyebrows suggestively, buttering his roll. “Imagine all the ladies we get to meet. The fashion is supposed to be quite different in Enbarr you know. A lot more legs on show.”

Dimitri gave him an uncomfortable smile, which only made the Gautier heir laugh. “Ah, never change.” 

That, unfortunately, was not a sentiment that Dimitri could return wholeheartedly, not in this regard. Thankfully, Sylvain continued talking before Dimitri could stumble his way through an awkward response. 

“It will be an interesting year I’m sure. I heard that both the Imperial Princess and the new heir of house Riegan will be attending.” Sylvain clicked his tongue. “Maybe some lovely ladies from the Royal Academy will be here as well. I considered taking some classes, but that would give my father the wrong idea.” Sylvain took a bite and then chewed for a moment. “The uniform of the Royal Academy is quite cute. I heard that they are allowed to choose different lengths of skirts, and boy, some ladies have ideas.” 

The tone of Sylvain’s voice was not meant for polite conversation.

Dimitri nodded and took a bite of his own breakfast, thankful that good manners would prevent him from having to participate in the conversation with his mouth full. He hadn’t been this enthusiastic about any meal in a while.

Sylvain continued talking. Somehow, managing to go from one outrageous topic to the next. He managed to cover the regent’s newest fling—Dimitri did not want to know—rumors that some ladies were considering courting Rodrigue—dear goddess—the apparent scandal a number of ladies had been involved in yesterday evening—of which Sylvain assured him was not a lie, because he himself had been a witness, until eventually, Dimitri tried to take a bite, only to find his plate empty. 

He looked at it with something resembling dread. 

“What do you think, your Highness?” Sylvain addressed him, eyes dancing with amusement. At that moment, Dimitri fiercely wished for Ingrid’s presence, she had always known how to put a momentary stop to Sylvain’s tales of his exploits. 

Thankfully, Dedue came to his aid.

“Are you finished, your Highness? I can send for more food if you’d like?”

“No, ah, “ Dimitri flushed slightly “Thank you Dedue. It was delicious, but I am quite full.”

Sylvain nodded in agreement. “It really was, and” A teasing look in Dimitri's direction, “I’m glad to see you had an appetite. You didn’t eat anything yesterday, which was a shame the food was delicious.”

Somehow, Dimitri had a feeling that Sylvain had gotten exactly what he wanted, though he couldn't quite place how. 

“Well,” the older boy said then after a glance out of the window, “Thank you for the meal and the talk, but I think my father will be expecting me. If he doesn’t see me soon, he might feel deprived. He does so love his lectures.”

Sylvain winked.

Rising from his chair, he straightened his clothes and carded a hand through his hair, artfully tousling it. Then he gave Dimitri a searching look, his lips quirking up into a teasing smile. “Since I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday, I will just have to do so now. You know how my father is about manners.” he gave an exaggerated grimace, nevertheless when he continued his tone and smile were genuine. “Happy belated birthday, Your highness.”

Suddenly, Dimitri remembered what yesterday's celebration had been about. It had been his birthday. He felt a flush of shame. How out of it had he been yesterday? He was sure that most, if not all, the nobles he had talked to would have at least mentioned congratulations. Yet, Dimitri remembered none of them.

He knew the smile he gave Sylvain was forced. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

Thankfully, his friend made no mention of it. 

Sylvain clapped him on the shoulders again, then he pressed a package into his hands. “Here, “ he said, “From me. I did not want to leave it with all the other presents yesterday,” Dimitri was rather embarrassed to note that he had not noticed the presents at all, while it wouldn’t do for a prince to ogle his gifts it did not speak for his observational abilities, “Though my father left the official one there.”

“Ah,” Dimitri smiled sheepishly, warmed that Sylvain would go through the trouble of getting him a personal gift despite their recent distance, “Thank you, Sylvain.”

The redhead chuckled, “You said that already. And,” He waggled his eyebrows though Dimitri had spotted a minute hesitation in the gesture, “Don’t thank me until you see what it is.” A grin,” You might want to open it in private.” 

The wink that accompanied the last part of the sentence was positively obscene. Dimitri felt himself flush in embarrassment, much to his friend delight. Dedue at least seemed to share Dimitri’s disapproval, because he was giving Sylvain a sharp look.

Sylvain only laughed and rose from his seat.

“Thank you for having breakfast with me. It has been nice seeing you. I suppose the next time we will see each other is at the academy.” He paused, “Or on the way there, depending on how travel is arranged.”

Dimitri nodded in acknowledgment but did not say anything. Sylvain smiled, and Dimitri would have called it a little sad if he could think of a reason why Sylvain would be unhappy right now, especially after he had delivered some teasing.

“I’ll be seeing you, Dedue, your highness.” and with a jaunty bow, that Dimitri knew the Margrave would not approve of, his friend left. Leaving Dimitri and Dedue behind in the salon, the package still clutched in Dimitri’s hands. 

Dimitri could not help but stare at it. It seemed innocuous, but he was fairly sure that he knew Sylvain, and rumors of his escapades, well enough to know that just because the package looked normal, did not mean it had to be.

On the seat beside him, Dedue fidgeted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Your Highness, do you … want me to leave?”

Dimitri looked up at him, but for once the boy from Duscur did not meet his gaze. Instead, he seemed to be blushing slightly. Dimitri gazed from him to the package and back up again. Then he steeled himself.

“No, Dedue, I don’t think that will be necessary.” 

Thankfully, Dedue did not argue with him, he simply continued sitting stiffly as Dimitri unwrapped the package. What revealed itself under the outer packaging was an intricately carved chest. It was surprisingly heavy, Dimitri noted as he carefully set it down on the table, so there was likely something inside.

After another moment of hesitation, Dimitri took the key from the top of the chest and opened it up. As soon as he did the sound of twinkling music filled the air. 

It was a melody box and not only that, it was a personalized one. Before Dimitri’s eyes, in the lid of the chest, was a small painting. He swallowed at the sight of it. It was done in soft colors, and no bigger than his hand, but the scene was unmistakable. It showed the fountain in the royal garden and five children playing in front of it. Sylvain and Ingrid and Glenn and Felix and Dimitri himself. The latter two were in the center, with Glenn standing behind them. They were all laughing. Happy and alive. Dimitri wondered who had done it. It was not the work of a master, but it was intricate and done with love for detail. He could make out the typically red of the hair ribbon Glenn had always worn, and the grass stains on their clothes. Sylvain liked painting though he kept that mostly private, Dimitri knew, but he did not know if his friend was capable of this level of art. He would ask him, he thought the next time they saw each other. 

Dimitri swallowed and tore his gaze away from the small painting, to take in the rest of the music box. At the bottom of the box was the actual music box, with a round circle, almost like a clock face on top of it. In the middle of it, a lion and a bird turned around each other as the melody played on. The sound of it was familiar, but it took Dimitri a moment to place where he had heard it. 

But when he did, he had to swallow again.

It was the song to which he and his friends had taken dancing lessons after El had left. Dimitri had wanted to share it with them and show them what he had learned. Ironically, all of them but Glenn had been better dancers than him. Dimitri could not bring himself to say anything, instead, he simply listened and watched as the lion and bird turned around each other. 

Eventually, the song came to an end, and the lion and bird stopped turning. Dimitri blinked, his throat feeling tight.

Dedue hummed and stood up to remove the leftover breakfast dishes. Dimitri remained sitting at the table for a while. He closed the box and opened it again. The song began to play again. 

When Dedue returned, Dimitri was still listening to the song. Closing and opening the box to get it started again. He did notice, however, that Dedue was watching him thoughtfully, and sometimes opened his mouth as if to speak, before changing his mind.

The next time the song came to an end. He did not start it anew, instead, he turned to look at Dedue and gave him, what he hoped was, an encouraging smile. 

“What is it, my friend?”

The man from Ducur bowed his head for a moment. “The song, does it have a special meaning?” Dedue paused, and then seemed uncomfortable, “I apologize, your highness, it’s not—”

Dimitri waved him off. He did not mind telling his friend. “In a manner of speaking. The song was fairly popular in the capital some years ago. My friends and I had dancing lessons to it, though the style is fairly common.”

Dedue hummed, chanced a glance at Dimitri, and then added with some hesitation “It is quite different from the music in Duscur.”

Dimitri smiled, it was a bittersweet thing to hear Dedue speak of the homeland that had been destroyed because Dimitri had been too weak. 

“Did you have formal dancing as well? You have seen it at the events of course, but most of our dances are pair dances…” 

Dedue nodded. “Some, but most of our dances take part in bigger groups with changing partners.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Dimitri opened the box again. This time he focused on the picture.

“Since Felix keeps avoiding you,” he said with some humor that he only partly felt, “You might want to take a look at the picture. You can see him here.” He gestured towards the small painting. Felix, in the middle next to Dimitri himself, holding his hand. 

Dedue looked at him for a moment, then he leaned closer to look at the picture, Dimitri turned the box so he would have an easier time seeing it. The music continued playing.

“I assume he is one of the boys with dark hair?” Dedue asked hesitantly. Dimitri nodded, “Yes, the smaller one. The other one is—was—Glenn. Felix’s older brother and Rodrigue’s eldest son.”

Dedue nodded again. “I can see the resemblance.”

Dimitri smiled because that was without a doubt true. House Fraldarius, especially in the recent generation, has rather recognizable appearances. 

_ This is nonsense _ , Glenn said.  _ What good does it do you to reminisce about those things? _

_ Our death, Dimitri,  _ his stepmother said,  _ must be avenged. They must die. _

_ What you must remember, _ his father added,  _ is Duscur. The boy knows it too. _

Dimitri felt his smile falter, and guilt washed over him. Dedue must have noticed his change of mood because he did not ask further questions.

“... It is a beautiful gift, your highness.” Dedue said gently after another moment of silence, and Dimitri could only nod, cradling the box in his hands, staring at the picture of his friends. 

“Yes,” he said eventually, and his voice sounded strange in his own ears. “I will have to thank Sylvain again.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Later that day, Dedue apologized for not being present at the party.

“Your highness. I heard that you left the event early. I apologize that I could not assist you. “

“It’s alright,“ Dimitri assured him, feeling more steady again, “I will not lie and say it was comfortable, but Felix helped me out.” He gave a slight smile to reassure his friend. “He led me from the room, and probably got Rodrigue.”

Dedue only nodded. 

It only occurred to him later, that after the party Dedue stopped asking about Felix.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The music box found its place on Dimitri’s bedside table, he played it more often than he would dare to admit, sometimes, the ghosts let him listen to it in peace.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Sylvain had mentioned the Officers Academy, but after Dimitri had gotten his gift, most of the idle talk had faded from his mind. 

Still, Dimitri should not have been surprised that the topic of his attendance at Garreg Mach would be brought up again. It had been tradition for the sons and daughters of house Blaiddyd to attend after all. His father had attended, and so had his uncle and the generations before them as well. However, Dimitri’s next birthday would be his eighteenth one. Which meant he would be formally crowned and ascend the throne as the king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

The academic year at Garreg Mach would go longer than that. Meaning his coronation would likely be pushed back. Dimitri had spit feelings on the matter. On the one hand, there was his duty to his people, a duty his family had carried for generations, as well as his desire to attend the academy that he had had since he was a child and listened to his father’s tales. One the other hand, there was his duty to the dead. A far heavier and weightier one. One only he could carry. A duty and burden and charge that could not be shared.

Would going to the academy help him find clues towards the people he needed to kill? Maybe. Unlike the kingdom, the church had not been thrown into chaos by the event, and if outside forces had been involved in the tragedy, it was more likely for the church to have picked up on it. They had involved themselves in the aftermath of it, after all. 

It was sensible for Dimitri to go. Necessary even. And so very different from the plans he had dreamed up as a child.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Some days after Dimitri's birthday celebration, Rodrigue asked him to have tea with him. Dimitri went to meet him in the duke’s office. 

When he arrived the tea had already been set up, and was seeping, and Dimitri was invited to take a seat. Rodrigue’s office had only become familiar to him after the tragedy. Before that, he had mostly seen the man in his father’s office if official matters were involved. Dimitri’s uncle worked from the king's office these days if he worked at all, and unlike his father and Rodrigue, the two of them did not seem keen on sharing space.

They had been chatting for a moment when Rodrigue brought up the topic because of which he had asked to talk to Dimitri while pouring the tea.

“Dimitri, I know the timing is not best, with you coming of age this year, but do you plan on attending the Officers Academy?”

Dimitri looked down into the tea and watched the steam rise. Rodrigue took it as a cue to continue.

“It will give you a bit of distance from the court and the politics. A last bit of freedom,” Rodrigue paused for a moment, “I had planned on bringing it up last year, “ Rodrigue told him, sipping his tea, “But the rebellion rather distracted me from it. There is also the fact that according to rumors the heirs of the alliance and empire will attend this year. It is not something you should isolate yourself from.”

Dimitri nodded and drank his tea. Almyran Pine Needle. He wondered if Rodrigue had wanted Felix to join them as well and been rebuffed. 

“Yes, Sylvain said they would be attending. Him as well.”

Rodrigue nodded. “Yes, Marius held him back for a few years so he could attend with you.”

Dimitri paused, rather taken aback by the idea. Some of his surprise must have shown on his face because Rodrigue chuckled. 

“Ah Dimitri, it is almost tradition for the nobles to send their children to the academy at the same time as the heirs of house Blaiddyd if they are close enough in age.”

He knew he was blushing in embarrassment, if only a bit, it did seem like something he should have guessed or at least expected.

“If you plan to go this year,” and from Rodrigue’s tone it was easy to gather that he rather wanted Dimitri too. “I believe you will not only be joined by Sylvain but by Ingrid as well.”

Rodrigue took another sip of his tea.

“You should consider it seriously, Dimitri I know that the timing could be better, truly, but I can personally attest that despite all the lessons,“ and here there was some humor in his tone, “I greatly enjoyed my own attendance.”

Dimitri nodded. He knew by now that he would attend, though he did not think it was for reasons that Rodrigue would approve of wholeheartedly. For some time, the two of them drank their tea in silence. 

“Will Felix be attending as well?” Dimitri asked eventually, breaking the silence. He saw Rodrigue pause, the teacup halfway to his lips. Then the duke placed it back onto the saucer. He did not look up, instead, he shrugged.

“The plan was always for him to attend with you… that boy…”

Dimitri chuckled. “He did always wish to attend. I remember him being quite upset that he could not go with Glenn.”

Rodrigue chuckled, to Dimitri’s ears he sounded a bit sad. He felt a moment of regret for bringing up Glenn in a conversation like this. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Remembering a long-ago conversation, Dimitri grinned and attempted to change the topic to something less serious. “Maybe Felix will carry on the family tradition as well.” Rodrigue looked at him, and Dimitri felt his grin growing wider, “As the representative of the Blue Lions at the White Heron cup.”

At that, Rodrigue cracked a smile. Sad still, but with a teasing glint.

“Or maybe you will, your highness.” Dimitri felt his eyes shot open wide, and he opened his mouth to cut in, however, Rodrigue continued. “You were the most enthusiastic about the dancing lessons after all.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Despite having decided to go to the monastery, Dimitri had not truly felt settled into the choice. It kept him up at night. Cutting into his already limited sleeping time and making his thoughts race.

He knew that the monastery would be the best place to find information about what happened in Duscur. He had not been able to find anything in Fhirdiad, and could not bring himself to approach Rodrigue with the issue. This was his charge, his penance as the survivor of that terrible day. He could not foist it up to someone else, he did not want to, and the ghosts would not let him.

They had not liked Rodrigue’s words of freedom and enjoyment. And Dimitri understood. How could he move around without a care and enjoy leisure days in the academy, when they lingered in torment? Unavenged. With their murderers enjoying their lives. 

Sometimes these thoughts haunted him deep into the night, making him unable to sleep. Most of the time Dimitri would remain in his room and wait for the sun to rise, but sometimes he could not fight the urge to move. 

He would get out of bed, and walk through the castle, avoiding the few guards and servants that were still up and about. The night after the conversation with Rodrigue was such a night. 

That night, Dimitri eventually found himself standing once again on the balcony overlooking the royal garden. Unexpectedly, that night someone joined him. 

Dimitri was still standing at the edge of the balcony when someone leaned on the railing beside him. Dimitri only had to turn slightly to recognize the familiar figure.

“Felix.“ He greeted and got a nod in return. “Boar.”

The smile Dimitri had been trying to call up faltered, and he clenched his hands on the railing. The words of their argument resounded again in his ears.  _ You don’t get to do that _ , Felix had said. After his birthday celebration, Dimitri had hoped that Felix and he would get to talk more again, but the distance had remained. It was difficult these days to find the right words to talk to Felix. It used to be the easiest thing in the world, but since Duscur, since the rebellion, it had gotten harder and harder, it was as if there was an unnamed obstacle between them that kept them apart. 

(Was it Glenn’s death? Dark hair across his face and blood dripping down on him?)

“I will be attending the Officers Academy come spring.” he eventually said, simply to break the silence. To start a conversation so that Felix would not simply walk away. 

Felix nodded, “I heard. If nothing else being house leader will be good practice for being king.”

A slight smile curled on Felix’s lips, and the glint in his eyes was almost teasing when he momentarily glanced into Dimitri’s direction. “When you ascend the throne you will already have practice keeping Sylvain in line.”

Despite himself, Dimitri grimaced before he could help himself. Felix chuckled. “You will have your hands full, though I suppose Ingrid will be doing most of the work.”

Dimitri certainly hoped so. He also hoped that interacting with his old friends would get easier again. That Ingrid too would come to understand that Dedue, and the people of Duscur, were not to blame for the Tragedy, that they too were victims.

Chiding himself mentally, Dimitri shook his head to push away the dark thoughts. And focused on another hope. As dear to him as the other, but in a different way.

“Will you be there too?”

Felix was silent for a moment, then he huffed, looking out into the night. “As if I would let you go alone. No matter how stupid your reasons for going are.”

“I…” Dimitri wasn’t sure why, maybe it was to bridge the gap that had appeared between them before they went to the academy, but at that moment he felt like he needed to tell Felix the true reason why he wished to attend. 

“I am not going just to learn.”

Felix was silent, but then he nodded slowly, turning to face Dimitri. Felix simply looked at him for a long moment, his face unreadable. “I see. To find the people behind Duscur…” the other man turned away. His lips were pressed tightly together and his gaze fixed at some point in the garden that Dimitri could not make out. Then Felix breathed out, almost as if having a deep sigh. “I can’t say that the thought of those people getting what they deserve doesn’t sound appealing to me. And,” here he paused,” and I suppose it is somewhat reasonable to assume that the church might have some information on it. But…” Felix licked his lips, glanced at Dimitri and away again, his shoulders drawing up defensively. “You need to be careful.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Of course.”

“No.” Felix's voice was sharp, cutting him off before Dimitri could elaborate, “I mean it. You want to avenge them. That’s… fine. But you have to put your safety first. You need to stay alive.”

Dimitri bit back the question if it was because he was the prince. He remembered all too well how Felix’s face had shuttered when he had asked him this. Still.

“I  _ need  _ to avenge them. I  _ must  _ Felix.”

“That’s fine.” Felix said again, “ Just as you  _ need  _ to stay alive.”

Felix's eyes were imploring him, almost pleading, but it was not something he could promise. 

Not wanting the conversation to escalate into another argument, Dimitri turned to leave. Felix did not stop him nor did he follow. Dimitri told himself he was relieved, as he walked down the hallways, his steps echoing around him.

“I, “ Felix said from somewhere behind him, trailing off and starting again. His voice sounded small and younger than he had sounded in a long time. It was eerie to hear it like this, in the dark corridor of the castle “I. I would not want you to. If I… I would want you to live. I want you to live. I’m sure Glenn and—” Felix mercifully cut himself off before Dimitri had to do it. The dead had made their demands clear.

“Live Dima. I don’t want you to die, not for revenge, that’s not why… I… we… that’s not why they protected you.”

The words seemed to resonate in the air around him. Echoed in Dimitri’s head as if he had heard them before, but he hadn’t. They were sweet and safe and Dimitri longed to cling to them, embrace them, and accept them as true. 

He knew better. 

Dimitri stood still in the hallways but he did not turn around. He understood where Felix was coming from, the problem was that Felix did not understand him.

“I see,” he answered, gaze still looking in the darkness. “I appreciate the thought, Felix, truly I do… But this… this is not about you.” He took a deep breath, and with it, he could almost taste the ashes on his tongue again, “You don't understand. You weren’t there. You did not see the depravity of that day or hear their dying screams.” He heard Felix take a breath, but Dimitri did not want to hear his platitudes. On his, he would not budge. Not even for Felix. “The dead must be avenged. They demand it of me and I will see it through, no matter what.”

And with that, he walked away. Felix did not follow, but he could hear him laugh behind him, probably mocking him. Felix did not believe in the ghosts, but Dimitri knew that, in that above all else, his friend was wrong. 

(He ignored that the laughter sounded heartbroken and hysterical rather than mocking.)

Dimitri did not talk to Felix for a long time after that though, and if he saw him around the castle, it was from a distance.


	5. Chapter 5

The academy, contrary to Dimitri’s worries, turned out to be a breath of fresh air. Not only did he get to see his old childhood friends again—changed though they might be—he also met some new people, both from Faerghus and from other parts of the continent. 

Dimitri did not see Felix at the welcoming ceremony, or the class meetup where he introduced himself to his new classmates and old friends. It was strange to see Sylvain and Ingrid standing across from him with Felix nowhere in sight, and for a moment Dimitri wondered if Felix had changed his mind. If their almost argument on that night had caused him not to attend despite his earlier words. 

He played with the thought of asking Sylvain if he had seen their friend, but in the end, decided against it. Surely Rodrigue at least would have told him if Felix had changed his mind at the last minute.

His decision was validated when he ran into Felix while taking his first look at the famed library of Garreg Mach. The library had played no small part in his decision to attend the Officers Academy. It was mostly empty when Dimitri visited and given that classes had not yet started officially that made sense. Dimitri could spot only two people in the library, a green-haired boy who was sleeping at one of the reading tables, and Felix. 

Felix was lounging at a corner table, feet stretched out underneath the table, and slouching on his seat. Despite his general absence from matters of schooling he was dressed in the uniform of the officer’s academy. There was a book lying on the table in front of him, but he did not seem to actually be reading it. Felix spotted him the moment Dimitri noticed him as well, and instead of calling out a greeting, he raised his brows mockingly and rolled his eyes. 

Dimitri made his way over to him. 

“Felix, it is good to see you. I missed you at orientation and the introduction.” He sat down across from him, carefully arranging his legs underneath the table so as not to disturb Felix’s sprawl. “You should make sure to properly introduce yourself to our classmates.”

Felix rolled his eyes again, this time accompanied by a mocking snort.

“There is no need for that.”

Dimitri wanted to argue that point, but given his own motivations, he hardly had a leg to stand on. “Still…” he began but decided to drop the topic.

“How do you like the accommodations?” 

“It’s fine.”

Dimitri fidgeted, he wanted to talk, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Their last interaction had not ended on a good note, and while Dimitri got the feeling that he should apologize, it was not something he could apologize for. He was sorry for the argument, but his stance had not changed. 

“Do you look forward to the classes?”

Felix gave him a look, making it very clear what he thought of Dimitri’s attempts at starting a conversation, but he answered anyway. “Depending on which teacher you get, focus classes will suck. Or they might anyway.”

Dimitri paused and brought the three teachers to mind. Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman were established, but the last one, a monk, was an unknown. “I suppose…”

Felix huffed a laugh, Dimitri did not think there was any true humor in it. “They are all more magic focuses. Though I suppose Hanneman knows his bow, and Professor Manuela is…”

He did not say more, but he did not need to. They had both heard a lot about her from Glenn. 

_ None of them can give you what you need,  _ Glenn chimed in. Dimitri nodded.

His gaze wandered around the room. The library was big, with multiple stories, though some of them were cordoned off and apparently not accessible for students. There were ways around that of course, but it required discretion. Especially given that Tomas, the librarian seemed very observant and invested in his work. He was also old, and likely to retire earlier so that was something Dimitri could take advantage of. Finding exactly what he was searching for would be the next challenge. The one in charge of organizing the library was Tomas, and if Dimitri were to ask him where to find certain information…

He gazed at the man, who was organizing some books that had been left out on the reading tables. 

“Be careful,” Felix told him, his voice sharp and when Dimitri looked at him he found that the hair of house Fraldarius had averted his eyes. “If you can find information on Duscur here, it is possible that those responsible for it keep an eye on this place. They obviously had connections and more power and influence than an average person would have.”

Dimitri felt warmth flood through him. He knew Felix well enough to identify his friend's concern and care for him even when presented in this brusque manner. Despite their previous fight and renewed distance, Felix still cared. 

“Of course,” Dimitri told him with a smile. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

As it turned out, Lady Rhea solved the professor question in a rather unorthodox fashion.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

In the evening, after Dimitri had given the new professor a general rundown on how schooling in Garrech Mach was supposed to work, he found Felix waiting for him in his room. 

The other man was sitting on his head, shoes still on, but thankfully hanging over the side. His sword lying on the bed beside him.

“Felix,“ Dimitri greeted him, finding himself smiling if only slightly. “Good evening.” 

A grunt was his response, but Dimitri did not mind. The fact alone that Felix was here meant that sooner or later they were going to talk. It was something precious that happened far too rarely these days, in Dimitri’s opinion, especially with Felix avoiding him most of the time. 

Instead, he went on his evening routine. Removing his cloak, the overcoat of his uniform and, after a second of hesitation and a peek at Felix still sitting on the bed, his gauntlets. Felix knew his hands and all the scars that marked them, be it from actual injuries or mishaps caused by his inability to control his strength. Felix used to hold his hands, used to intertwine their fingers as if they belonged like that. He hadn’t done that in a long time, only a couple of times since Duscur, once, after the western rebellion, and even in the years before their lives were ripped apart only sparingly. 

Sometimes, Dimitri dared to miss it even now. Though he knew that he was much too old to yearn for such childish things like holding his best friend’s hand. (Sometimes he wondered if Felix still considered him his best friend.)

Even after Dimitri had dressed down for the evening, Felix made no move to speak, and so Dimitri sat down at his desk to look over a book on statecraft Rodrigue had recommended for him. Though his father told him it was useless for Dimitri’s future plans, he felt he owned Rodrigue to at least take a look at it. 

“What do you think of the Professor?”

Dimitri paused and laid down the pen he had been fiddling with and turned around to face Felix. He still wasn’t looking at him. Dimitri took a deep breath, mentally ordered his words, and answered. “I think… she is interesting.”

Felix’s eyebrows rose. 

“But I’m not sure if she will be a good teacher.”

“The daughter of Jerald the Blade Breaker.” Felix threw in.

“Yes, and called the Ashen Demon as well. She is competent. The way she killed the bandits…”

Dimitri looked down at his own hands for a moment. Remembered them bloody and sticky, back during the rebellion. Remembered his own actions. His own laughter. 

“She killed them without blinking. Did not even look at their corpses…”

He remembered the body of the man gripping the locket, remembered two knights' hands intertwined as their bodies lay on the ground. Even now, knowing that he would likely do something like that again if he had to, Dimitri felt chilled. To learn from a person who treated killing no differently from anything else...

He remembered Felix standing amid the massacre of Dimitri’s making. 

He could not bring himself to look up at Felix. 

For a moment they simply sat in silence. It was Felix who eventually broke it. 

“She seems like a very controlled person. Though I admit that the blank face is strange… ” Dimitri looked up, fixed his gaze on Felix’s chin, still unable to meet his eyes. “You spoke to her?”

Felix nodded, and to Dimitri’s eyes, he looked uneasy. He watched as his friend bit his lip. “She talked to all the students, I think. There is something about her…” Felix paused, grimaced, nervously licked his lips. “Be careful about her. She is not normal.”

Given his surprise at such a statement, Dimitri’s gaze automatically snapped up to meet Felix’s.

“What do you mean?” his voice did not come out as a question, but as a demand, but Felix showed no reaction to it. Instead, he shrugged. Now it was Felix avoiding eye contact.

“The whole situation of her employment is strange. She is strange, so...Be careful.”

Dimitri waited for a moment, but nothing more came. It was an unsatisfying answer, but short of pressing Felix to elaborate there wasn’t much he could do but wait and see. There was one thing he was fairly certain of, however, and that was that Felix knew something about the professor that had thrown him off. 

“Felix…”

But as soon as he made up his mind to inquire more, his friend got up from the bed.

“Go to sleep,” Felix told him. “There is nothing about the professor you can do right now. Whether she is a good teacher or not will be obvious soon.“

Dimitri rose from his seat as well and moved to courteously open the door for him.“ Of course, Felix.”

Felix gave him an unimpressed look. “I mean it. Your eyebags have eyebags. What would your lapdog say.”

Irritation rushed through Dimitri. “Such comments are unnecessary. Dedue has done nothing to deserve such treatment from you.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but he did not restart their argument. Dimitri pursed his lips. And they remained standing like that for a moment with the door open and the doorway creaking.

“Woah!” another voice broke their standoff. 

“Your Highness, careful with those hands.” Dimitri turned to come face to face with Sylvain. He sheepishly relinquished his grip. Felix snorted, stepping past him and into the hallway, where Felix stopped and addressed him again.

“I meant what I said about your sleep.” A pause, “Even… Dedue would agree.”

Startled, Dimitri felt his leftover irritation vanish, “... Yes, good night. Felix.” And a look and a smile to the ginger in the corridor. “Sylvain.” 

Felix walked off without another look, but Sylvain remained standing where he was. 

“...Good night, your Highness.”

As he closed the door, Dimitri thought Sylvain was giving him a worried look. He hoped the redhead would not join in on the campaign to get him to sleep more. It was not as if his sleep was restful anyway.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Their blades clashed. Dimitri feinted to the right but had to reorient himself when Felix ignored the feint to attack him head-on. Giving ground he moved backward, blocking strikes aimed at his neck, torso, and occasionally his wrist. He could feel the reverberation of each hit that met his own sword. Despite his stature, Felix’s strikes were heavy. 

This was one of the things Dimitri had wished for when he came to Garreg Mach, to reconnect with his childhood friends. Felix was the least obliging, but sparring with him made Dimitri feel more alive than just about anything. 

Dimitri blocked the next blow and redirected Felix’s strike down with the tip of his lance, then shifted his weight, intending to wrench the sword out of his friends with the momentum. However, his trick had been anticipated and Felix followed the movement, stepping into Dimitri’s guard and turning his body so that his sword was free.

Slightly unbalanced, Dimitri stumbled sideways, forced to ungracefully dodge to avoid Felix’s counterattack. He managed to regain his footing and used the advantage of his longer reach to trip Felix, before putting the lance at his chest.

Lying on the ground, a fierce scowl on his face, Felix looked up at him. He huffed and despite his clear displeasure at the loss, he sounded slightly impressed, “It seemed like you picked up some of the professor’s dirty tricks.”

Still flushed from the fast pace of their fight, Dimitri nodded and tried to calm his breathing.

“And you have gotten faster.”

Pleasure flashed across Felix’s face for a moment before he schooled his expression.

“You still panic when someone gets past your guard.” 

Dimitri’s lips tightened, but he did not deny it, instead, he straightened and raised his lance.

“Another round?” he inquired.

Felix gave him a long look, then he shook his head.

“No,” Felix said, “I have stuff to do, and you need to go have lunch.”

Dimitri grimaced, but Felix only gave him an unimpressed look. “Do you want your vassal,” the dislike in the word was clear but preferable to the last form of address Felix had used for Dedue, “to come find you? Or maybe Ingrid, you know she will once she finds out that you have been avoiding eating.” here he sounded almost amused. “Maybe she will spoon feed you.”

Dimitri huffed in amusement. “I do not think Ingrid would actually do that.”

Felix inclined his head. “No, but she would keep bothering you until you ate every last bite.”

Especially, Dimitri mentally added, if Ingrid herself had already eaten.

“And you Felix? Do you not need to eat as well?”

Felix shrugged, “Unlike you, I know exactly how much I need to eat and don’t go around avoiding it.”

Dimitri put the practice lance back into the rack. “Ah, but I do eat when I’m hungry Felix. Do not make this out to be something it is not.”

“Am I?” Felix asked, “Are you ever really hungry, boar?”

Dimitri did not answer, despite knowing that that was answer enough. Felix, practice sword still in hand, walked towards the exit of the training yard. “Go eat. Exercise is supposed to make you hungry.”

And with that, he left. Dimitri sighed and looked around in the empty training ground. Felix was right. It was already at the end of mealtime, and unless he wanted someone to prepare a meal for him outside of the general times, he should go eat soon. With a sigh, Dimitri wiped the last of the sweat from his brow, before turning to leave as well. To his surprise, he was not alone in the training yard anymore. 

Professor Jeritza was standing between the pillars close by the entrance. The man’s attention seemed to be solely focused on Dimitri and then keen eyes tracked his movement. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but Dimitri forced himself to give a polite smile.

“Good afternoon, professor.”

He got a stiff nod in return, but the man said nothing else, so Dimitri made to leave. When he was almost at the door, Jeriza turned abruptly, tilting his head like a bird of prey as he watched him. 

“Your fighting technique,” the instructor informed him in his inflectionless voice, “is interesting. You have a keen eye for visualization.”

There was something disquieting about the way Jeriza was watching him even now. But Dimitri mustered a smile all the same. He stopped and turned to face the man.

“Thank you.”

An incline of his head was the only acknowledgment. To Dimitri’s disquiet, the man’s hand had gone to his sword, landing on the hilt. He did not draw his weapon, but with the way he was watching him, Dimitri had the feeling that he was being sized up for a battle, and he wished that he still had the practice lance. It was hardly the best weapon, but it was a weapon all the same. As he shifted his weight into a more ready stance, Dimitri could see Jeritza’s lips turning up in the slightest of smiles. 

“Will that be all, Professor? I had planned on going to the dining hall.”

A minute incline of the teacher’s head, and with it the razor-sharp focus on him seemed to lessen slightly. Dimitri gave another polite smile and turned away. He could feel the other man’s gaze on his back, and with each step, he took from the training ground he was terribly aware that he had turned his back to someone that seemed to have been seizing him up like a predator seized up his prey. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the door and stepped through, a short glance back over his shoulder confirmed for him what he had been expecting. The professor was still watching him. Dimitri kept the polite smile on his face and once more inclined his head, before taking the last step and letting the door fall from his hand. The door fell shut behind him and Dimitri found himself letting out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. The uncomfortable feeling, however, remained. So did one rather pressing question: How long had Professor Jeritza been watching him? 

Dimitri had done his individual training—the one that had included the visualization he had been complimented on—before he had even started sparring with Felix. Yet, Felix and him had sparred for quite a long while. Had the professor been there the whole time?

Somehow, the thought of that felt dangerous. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Professor Byleth, contrary to Dimitri’s first impression, turned out to be a surprisingly genuine person. While her expression mostly remained unchanged, it was not due to a lack of care for the people around her. 

In fact, it seemed like the young woman seemed keen to interact with the students left in her care. She was open for sparring outside of the class hours, always willing to answer additional questions or lend a hand. Nor, did she discriminate against people based on their class, gender, or origin. Dimitri had seen her talk to Dedue in the greenhouse, as well as talk to the daughter of house Varley even with the door between them. 

He had even seen her have tea with Felix, and while the Fraldarius heir had looked uncomfortable sitting between the hedges and surrounded by tea parties, the fact alone that he had remained showed that whatever the Professor had been telling him had engaged him. He had almost been tempted to join them, but he had promised Mercedes to supervise her swordsmanship training. 

The professor also liked to eat with the students. She did so often, and when she did, she ate a lot. Multiple full meals, in fact. Over the course of the month he had eaten with her twice, once with Dedue, and once with Felix. 

Unlike the other times, Professor Byleth had not invited him for a meal earlier but instead waved him over to sit with her when he caught her eye in the dining hall. Dimitri had planned on eating alone, as most of his classmates had duties or additional classes, and he had not looked forward to it. Eating alone wasn’t pleasant. In fact, he had been looking around the dining hall hoping to spot a familiar face, so he was glad to accept her invitation. 

As he made his way through the throngs of people, he noticed that the professor was not alone at her table. Felix was sitting across from her, his back turned towards Dimitri. The thought of eating with his old friend and the professor brought a smile to his face.

Felix only noticed him when he sat down his meal on the table. He turned into the direction of the intrusion with a look of distaste on his face that faded slightly when he recognized Dimitri. 

Dimitri’s own smile got wider, “Professor, Felix.”

“Dimitri.” the professor returned in her usual placid manner, while Felix simply grunted a halfhearted greeting. Dimitri sat down, and carefully arranged his dishes on the overfull table. It was honestly quite intimidating to look at all the dishes that were arranged between Felix and the professor. They were also, he noted with some surprise, traditional meat dishes from Fhaerghus.

Byleth noted his look. “Felix is introducing me to some traditional food.”

Dimitri chuckled, even as Felix looked away in embarrassment next to him. “He is introducing you to his favorites, Professor. Felix always favored meat dishes, but they are hardly the only thing we eat in Faeghus.”

Felix made a dismissive noise, but Dimitri did not let it stop him. “You should ask Ingrid as well Professor, she always was the most interested in food.”

“Urg,” Felix groaned, “Ingrid eats everything. No matter how it tastes, as long as there is enough of it.”

Dimitri coughed into his fist. “Don’t let her hear that. You know how enthusiastic she is about buffets.”

The look on Felix’s face made it very clear that he did indeed remember it. Dimitri chanced a glance at the professor who was watching them with keen eyes. It was a curious look that made her look very young. 

“And what is your favorite, Dimitri?” she asked, seemingly genuinely curious. Dimitri blinked, and then smiled slightly, going by the frown on the professor’s face she noticed that something had changed. 

“Ah, I don’t have a favorite. As long as it smells good, and has a nice texture I enjoy just about anything.”

From the corner of his mouth, he saw Felix’s pursed lips, but thankfully his friend did not contradict him, he did, however, add something on his own. “He liked talking about all the situations in which he ate the meals before, and telling stories that should be forgotten about.”

The warm feeling that had disappeared slightly, when the matter of his food preferences was brought up returned, and with it a spark of mischief. From Felix, that had practically been an invitation. 

“Felix is right, of course,” Dimitri told the professor with what he hoped was an innocent smile, even if he had probably not quite gotten it right if the way Felix suddenly tensed next to him was any indication. “I do enjoy those stories, and I have many of them.”

He took in all the dishes of the table again.

“How about Felix continues his introduction to the traditional meat dishes of Faerghus, while I introduce you to the occasion where we have eaten them? I can assure you, professor, it will be an interesting meal.”

Next to him, Felix shook his head, but before he could voice any objections the professor cut in, sounding surprisingly lively. 

“That sounds nice.” she looked over the dishes. “I will share a story as well.” the professor said after a pause, looking shyly enthusiastic. “About that time father and I ate some traditional food from Morfis.”

Then she looked at Felix and pointed at one of the dishes. “That one first.”

For a moment, Felix simply looked back at her in disbelief, then he glanced at Dimitri who made sure to give him his most innocent look. Dimitri knew the exact moment Felix gave in. For a moment his scowl softened slightly before it deepened and he looked away.

“Fine.” he gritted out. “But you both have to eat them,” A sharp look in Dimitri’s direction, “and no skipping out of it to tell more stories, you are both here to eat.” A pause, then with a deadly sort of calm. “And you better choose your stories wisely.”

Dimitri gave him his best smile, Felix did not look impressed.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The academy was enjoyable for all that had happened, and while he had not made as much progress in his search as he had wanted to— _ needed to _ —he could not bring himself to think of it as wasted time. Small things got sprinkled on his way. Lord Lonato’s ill-fated rebellion, the sword of the creator, and the strange mages, Miklan. And then, Flayn disappeared from the monastery itself. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Mentally walking through the monastery, and all the information they had gathered about Flayn’s whereabouts today, Dimitri bit back the urge to throw something against the wall of his room, if only for the satisfaction of watching it break. It would not help him suddenly find a new clue. 

Yet, there had to be something they had missed. People did not simply disappear into thin air, and Flayn was not the type to simply run off.

Frustrated, Dimitri carded a hand through his hair and paced across the room.

_ The girl will join us soon. _ Glenn said, and Dimitri turned away from him to stare at the wall.  _ She isn’t a fighter, if the death knight came for her, there is no way she could have gotten away.  _

You are right, Dimitri acknowledged, they had faced the Death Knight in the holy tomb, and Dimitri could still feel his arms strain under the weight of the man’s blows. 

_ He worked with the people who invaded the tomb and conspired against the kingdom _ , his father threw in, voice cold and forbidding,  _ it is likely this is part of a larger plot. You must find the people behind it. And kill them.  _ The King’s voice brokered no argument. 

It wasn’t that Dimitri disagreed, but Flayn might be a person he could still save. So he would prefer to do that while, at the same time, making sure that the people behind it could harm no one else. He had been appalled to learn that another student had disappeared last year and neither she nor the perpetrator had been found. 

He moved to the left side of the room, pivoted on his heel and moved back to the right. His footsteps echoed in the empty room. Part of him hoped he did not keep other people awake, while the other part felt like this was not the time to be sleeping. Father was still arguing and Glenn had taken to adding his opinion as well, even his stepmother would not keep her silence. 

With a deep sigh, he sunk into the chair. His temples throbbed with tension, each word spoken by the dead reverberated through his skull and sending sharp lances of pain through his head. Slumping in his desk chair he put his head in his hands and massaged his temples. It did not help, but at least it gave him something to do. He sat there for what could be minutes or even an hour and simply tried to force himself to calm. His eyelids and limbs felt heavy, but he had dealt with worse. 

“Boar. Go to bed.” Dimitri felt his shoulders tense, but he did not turn around. He had not heard Felix enter, but then again, he had hardly paid attention to anything but the screaming of the dead and the pounding of his head. Behind him, Felix remained, patient as he always was at his most formidable. The ghosts, too, fell silent as they sometimes did in his friend’s presence. 

“You need to sleep.”

Dimitri forced a smile on his face, “I appreciate the concern, Felix, truly, but—”

“Cut it out,” Words as sharp as a knife. “Don’t put on that fake smile, it’s disgusting.”

Dimitri’s smile faltered, and he raised a hand to grip at the bridge of his nose, hoping to starve of the persistent headache. 

The words tumbled from his lips before he could think better of it. Without proper diction and with the whining cadence of a child. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

He could not even imagine the way Felix would react to such a statement. His old friend had likely only come in here when he had heard Dimitri pacing around in his room like a caged animal. Maybe it had kept him awake. Felix wasn't here to listen to him whine. When they were children he had sometimes whined to Felix like this, knowing that his friend would not judge him or carry his complaints to the adults. That was years ago, however, and Dimitri was hardly a child anymore. Felix would not tell another person, of course, would still keep his secrets, but this— Unbidden he felt a humiliated flush rising on his cheeks, could already hear Felix sharp words in his—

Instead, there was a sight, but no words followed, instead Felix remained silent for a moment.

“At least go to bed.” The eventual answer was subdued. “Forcing yourself to work is probably the worst thing you can do. Rest, if nothing else.” 

Dimitri forced himself to raise his head and turn around. Felix was leaning against the door, looking at the ceiling, his mouth twisted into an unhappy frown. Unlike Dimitri, who was dressed down for the evening, Felix was still in his uniform.

“Shouldn't you be in bed as well? I understand that you too must be worried about Flayn, but—” Amber eyes snapped to him and Felix huffed a dismissive laugh. “Hah! Don’t go changing the subject, boar.” A pause, then: “Did you not listen to the teacher’s arrangement? Some of the students take part in the guard shift if they don’t have early lesson blocks tomorrow.”

The blocks for the morning of the next day were combat-focused, but neither swords nor brawling, or even archery in which Felix sometimes dabbled, were scheduled. 

“I see,” Dimitri said then, hoping to distract Felix, “Should you not be posted somewhere then?”

Felix snorted, “We are additional security, not guards. I just need to stay in the dormitory and keep my ears sharp. And you need to rest.”

Felix unfolded himself from his leaning position and gestures towards the bed his eyebrows arched imperiously. It was, Dimitri suddenly realized, something uniquely Felix, something that Glenn had never done. The thought threw him off track and before he could think about it he had already risen from the chair. Dimitri stopped, but Felix showed no reaction, no smugness, or satisfactions, only the demand remained. 

“To bed, boar.” Dimitri stumbled to his bed and sat down on the blankets, his body felt wooden and heavy, he blinked up at Felix from his seat. A coldness gripped him. He could not sleep, but more than that Dimitri did not want to sleep. He did not have the fortitude to withstand the memories that would surely haunt his nightmares, not know when another of his friends might be waiting for death. He did not know Flayn very well, but he had spoken to her, eaten her cooking, and seen the way her brother doted on her. For a person like her, genuinely kind and cheerful, to fall victim to whatever monster prowled the night was distressing. He was certain that this night she would join the parade of the dead in his dreams if he ever got to sleep.

“Felix… I…”

He rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away the tiredness, the headache, maybe even Felix’s insistent demands and his very presence. Felix, as he was wont to do, did not oblige him. 

“What?” the swordsman asked instead, walking away from the door and moving to straddle the chair that Dimitri had previously vacated, his arms crossing over the armrest. He looked at Dimitri inquisitively, but Dimitri had no answer to give him.

Eventually, Felix rolled his eyes. “Honestly, It’s not hard. Get off your shoes, crawl under the blanket, and curl up like a good boar. If you fall asleep, good, if you don’t, at least you aren’t making your headache worse.”

Dimitri laughed humorlessly, “Do you think I did not try?”

Felix shrugged. “Did I ask? Lie down, boar.”

Dimitri remained sitting, but his mouth betrayed him again.

“Maybe it is more accurate to say that I do not want to sleep.” The confession was ripped from him, a bitter admission. The look Felix gave him in return was thoughtful. “Is it that you cannot sleep, or is it the nightmares?” 

In the early days after Duscur Felix had slept in his room, and woken to his screaming. 

“Both,” Dimitri admitted after a pause. There was no use hiding this after the rest he had already admitted. “Today, the former, though I know the other won’t be far behind.”

Felix hummed, and they sat in silence together. It was somewhat calming, to simply have the presence of another living person around.

“Are you tired?” Felix asked him after a long while.

Dimitri blinked at Felix, sitting there across from him, dressed in his uniform and looking like he could be in any of their classes in the middle of the day. He felt the heaviness of his lids and forced them to remain open. Then, he raised his hand and carded it through his hair. It was likely a mess at this point anyway. With detachment he noted that his hand felt strange and heavy, barely like it was part of his body. “I am tired.” He murmured, surprised that it was actually true. He knew exhaustion, but tiredness was something that he rarely truly felt. The way he did right then.

“I figured,” Felix told him, voice even. “You are blinking too much, you open your eyes too wide, and I have seen you pinch your own arm twice now.”

Taken aback by the slew of words, Dimitri simply stared at him. He did not remember pinching his own arm. 

“I see.” he murmured slumping where he sat. 

“The first step, “ Felix said, his voice carefully neutral, “Is to take off your shoes.”

Dimitri looked up, but Felix was not looking at him, instead, he was gazing at the candle flame on Dimitri’s desk, so Dimitri studied him instead. Despite the late hour, Felix did not look tired or exhausted, even though the last week had been stressful for all of them.

“Your shoes,” Felix repeated.

With a sigh, that might as well have been a laugh, Dimitri complied, unlacing his boots and throwing them to the side. The action got him Felix’s attention as well as a raised eyebrow, but no comment. Feeling that it might be better to preclude Felix’s next instruction, especially since Dimitri did not truly feel like getting talked about how to go to bed like a particular dimwitted or stubborn child, Dimitri threw back the covers and crawled under them. He was not wearing his sleep clothes, but his current clothes were comfortable enough that he could sleep in them without issue if he were to actually get some sleep.

For a moment Dimitri looked at the ceiling. The mattress was soft, and it felt good to not be standing upright, but despite his tiredness and exhausting, his mind was still racing. He would not get any sleep. Sighing to himself, he turned on his side, catching sight of Felix still sitting at the desk, but having leaned forward to blow out the candle. Felix caught his gaze after the candle flickered out, and even in the dark room, Dimitri could make out his friend’s raised brows. Dimitri looked away from him, towards the dresser across the room.

Then something occurred to him. “Felix, are you planning on staying here?”

Silence answered him. Dimitri tore his gaze away from the dresser back to Felix, still reclining in the chair, and refusing to meet his eyes. It was too dark in the room for him to be able to make out if Felix was blushing, but as the silence continued to drag on, Felix started to fidget. Subtly, but he fidgeted, all the same. 

Amusement overcame Dimitri and he could not hold back the smile creeping up on his face. He shifted his position slightly, tugging one arm up and pillowing his head on it, so he could study his friend without having his view obstructed by the pillow. 

“I am in bed now, aren’t I?” his momentary good mood caused the tiredness to seep deeper into his bones, but the headache did not seem as devastating as it had been earlier. Dimitri considered trying to sleep. One way or another he would wake up soon, but even an hour would probably make him much more alert once it was time to strike out against the death knight and his ilk. “I will try to sleep.”

At his words, Felix turned to face him again. Dimitri could not make out too much of his friend's expression, but he could feel the weight of Felix’s gaze on him.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Dimitri’s heart skipped a beat. When he had asked Felix about his continued presence, he had not really anticipated that he would really stay, at least not for much longer. He had expected Felix to bring up a reason for his stay. Something he had overheard maybe, or something else he felt the need to talk with Dimitri about. Without a cause, Felix and him rarely simply spend time together these days.

“No.” The answer came quicker than was probably dignified, but then, Dimitri did not think he had much dignity left in this situation. And it was Felix. No one else. When he had been a child, in a situation like this he would have probably badgered Felix to get into the bed with him, so he could cuddle him. But they were no longer children, and the nightmares he had had as a child seemed laughable now as an adult.

“Don’t think too much of it, boar.” Felix grumbled eventually, “I need to stay awake anyway, like this I can at least make sure you are not fully acting out your idiocy.” 

Dimitri hummed, irritation momentarily flashing through him as he had told Felix that it was not that easy, but he pushed it away. Felix had gotten worse at showing that he cared, but Dimitri still knew him well enough to know that the reason his friend stayed was because he did care. 

“You should make sure to get rest as well,” he informed him instead. “Your guard shift is not the whole night after all, and you need to be in top shape if the death knight is going after the people of the academy.

For some reason, his words irritated Felix quite a bit, as the other unfolded his arms, and leaned forward over the back of the chair, one hand stretching out to point at Dimitri accusingly. "I'm the last person you should be worrying about. Worry about yourself, Sothis knows it's necessary, or any of your classmates.”

Dimitri had not worried about himself in a long time. But seeing Felix like this… Without thinking he sectioned through, Dimitri raised the hand that he was not lying on and used it to grab the hand Felix was still pointing at him.

“Mhm, I would say it seems like you worry enough for the both of us.” He told Felix who had frozen when Dimitri had grasped his hand. To Dimitri’s surprise, Felix did not pull his hand away, instead, he looked down at their interlocked hands for a long moment. A look that Dimitri could almost call sad on his face. 

Their hands hung in the air between them, a stark contrast between Dimitri’s hand and Felix’s. While Dimitri knew that Felix too had callouses from training, as well as small nicks and scars that came from working with weapons, in contrast to Dimitri’s they could almost be called flawless.

Where Dimitri would always consider his own hands big and awkward, unwieldy for handling anything that could be considered fragile, Felix’s hands were elegant. Long fingered and slim, they did not betray the strength that Dimitri knew they held or the steadiness with which they wielded a blade. When he was a child his stepmother had once told Felix that he had the hands of a pianist, with his long and slim fingers. The thought was a bittersweet one, and Dimitri squeezed Felix’s hand that still had not pulled away gently, careful to keep his strength in check. 

Dimitri expected many reactions, but he had not expected Felix to turn his hand so that he could properly interlink their fingers, and gently squeeze Dimitri’s hand in return. Warmth rushed through him, and he felt his own cheeks heating slightly. 

Dimitri hesitated again. He found his gaze wandering from their interlocked hands to Felix’s face and back again. The desire to ask for something he had not dared ask since their childhood rose up in him, but he could not bring himself to speak. He dared not ask for more. He could hardly believe that Felix had permitted him even this much. That his old friend had cast aside his prickly shell to attempt to comfort him when Felix likely needed comfort just as much. 

After all, despite whatever image Felix might try to project, Dimitri had always known that he cared. Yet caring, and showing that care were different things to Felix. Flayn was Felix’s friend, and so was Dimitri. 

“The nightmares…” Dimitri trailed off, unsure how to put it into words without sounding like a child. Felix waited patiently, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of Dimitri's hand. The movement was soothing and caused Dimitri to press on. “I sleep better when I know another person is around.”

Like a child. Like Felix as a child, truly. A little boy, all too eager to crawl into his best friend’s bed and hug him tightly so he could sleep peacefully. Dimitri no longer slept peacefully, but as long as he did not wake up with horror clawing at the back of his throat, anything was an improvement. 

He forced himself to look up and Felix and meet his gaze, but that did not help him understand what his friend was thinking. Felix’s face was unreadable, but not mocking, not angry, and somehow that was enough. The embarrassment vanished and Dimitri gave him a weak, though genuine, and hopeful smile. 

For a long moment, Felix did not react, he simply looked at Dimitri as if searching his face for something. Then his lips tightened into a thin line and he got to his feet and dropped Dimitri’s hand. As it dropped back to the bed, Dimitri's stomach dropped with it. 

But only for a moment.

Because Felix did not turn his back and walk towards the door. Instead, he rose from the chair and stepped over to the bed, and sat down on the edge of the bed giving Dimitri an imperious look. Before he quite realized what he was doing, Dimitri had scooted towards the wall, making space in the bed next to him. Felix awkwardly sat on the bed next to Dimitri's head. He did not kick off his shoes, and instead let them hang over the side of the bed while he leaned against the headboard with his shoulder, in such a way that his back was half turned towards Dimitri. 

Once seated, he reached out and grasped Dimitri’s hand again without turning to look at him, the movement steady and sure as it had been when they were children. There was no one in the whole world who had held his hand as often as Felix had. No one who knew just how to twist their fingers for the grip to be comfortable, even now, when they no longer had the soft and pudgy hands of children. 

Dimitri looked at his back and wanted to lean against it, curl into the warmth of him and listen to Felix’s heartbeat reverberate through his body. The steady thump of blood being pumped through a living person. 

Felix wasn’t as broad as Dedue, or him and Sylvain, he was built for speed rather than strength, but at that moment his back looked incredibly strong and sturdy to Dimitri’s eyes. 

Dimitri sighed deeply, and pushed the thought away, instead he focused on Felix’s grip on his hand, where they were laying on the bed still interlinked. 

“Sleep,” Felix said and squeezed his hand. Even though it was awkward to look at him now that he was sitting so close, Dimitri could easily spot that he was deliberately looking away. Felix’s awkwardness was only emphasized by the tight line of his shoulders. “If you start to dream I’ll smack you and duck.”

Dimitri huffed a laugh. He wondered, what it said about him, that the words, just as much as Felix's presence, were comforting. He wondered further, how long Felix was going to stay. When he would get annoyed enough to drop his hand and leave. Wondered if it would be better or worse to see him go, rather than just imagine it. He did not wonder if he would fall asleep. He did not expect it, but he did. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

When he woke up in the morning his room was empty. 

Dimitri was disoriented at first, wrongfooted by and unused to deep and restful sleep. It had been a long time since he had slept so well. Somehow, it wasn’t a wholly comfortable feeling. His head felt clearer and sharper, but at the same time, he was unsettled by the way he felt after sleeping so deeply that he had not woken up to Felix leaving his room. Dimitri got out of bed quickly, washed himself and put on the uniform again. As he reached for the gauntlets that were resting on his table he paused for a second, remembering the way they had looked with Felix’s thumb rubbing over the back of his hand. He could almost feel the memory of the touch, and as he put on his gauntlets, he found himself smiling somewhat bitterly. They protected him, but they also kept him at a distance to the people around him, making them unable to touch his hands, whether it was in a handshake or even an extended hand after a sparring match. 

When he stepped out of his room, Felix was waiting for him in the hallway. Dimitri wondered if he had heard him moving around in his room and decided to come out to meet up with Dimitri. He wondered when Felix had left him the night before after he had fallen asleep.

“Good morning, Felix.” he greeted him as he moved towards him. Felix nodded back in return. “I must thank you—” 

“There is something off about Jeritza.” Felix said, cutting him off before he could finish what he had wanted to say, “There is something about his swordsmanship…”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Flayn was saved and joined their class. She proved herself to be a remarkably resilient young woman who seemed to shake off the terror of her abduction with startling ease. She was also, contrary to Dimitri’s previous expectations, remarkably competent on the battlefield and proved herself a boon during the battle of the eagle of the lion in which the professor led them to victory. 

Flayn fit in easily with their class, cheerful, if slightly naive, without prejudice towards people of different social classes and backgrounds, and keen insight. Dimitri found himself understanding how Felix had come to consider her a friend. Dimitri himself enjoyed her belief that peace was possible, though he found it hard to fathom, especially with the task he needed to perform. He could have done without the added scrutiny of Seteth however, who proved himself to be an extraordinarily overprotective brother. 

For a while, life in the Officer’s Academy returned to its peaceful rhythm, if only for a short time, then the Red Wolf Moon arrived. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

At the beginning of the Red Wolf Moon, a letter arrived from Rodrigue, informing him of the escalating bandit problems in the kingdom, and telling him that some of the outlying villages of Fraldarius territory had been attacked and that despite Rodrigue’s intervention he had not been able to save all the villagers. The survivors, however, had chosen to follow Rodrigue to Fraldarius proper and had now settled closer to the castle. 

It was only one of the many small disasters that Dimitri was kept abreast of. So when the Professor informed their class that they would assist the knight of Seiros in an investigation into a small village in the empire, Dimitri could not truly say that he was surprised. However, Remire village was worse than he could have expected. As soon as they arrived in the village he found the anger and the rage that he had kept so carefully caged since the Western Rebellion surging to the surface. 

He threw himself into the battle, cutting down all those wretched soldiers that thought they could play with the lives of the people, and even worse, the mage Tomas, or whatever he was calling himself, who took enjoyment in seeing the suffering. They moved forward as one, and quickly Dimitri found himself leading the charge, outpacing his classmates who split up in two groups to rescue the villagers begging for their help. Dimitri could not bring himself to stop to see them to safety and left that task to his classmates. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see another villager run towards them, knowing that getting behind their lines meant safety, however, their enemies were in pursuit. Dimitri moved towards him, back into the center of the village where Jerald and his mercenaries were pushing towards Solom. He knew even as he moved, that he would not be fast enough to save the man. The distance between them was too great, and the one between him and his pursuer too little. 

Dimitri would not be able to save the men, but he could avenge him. The lance fit in his hand perfectly and he firmed his grip, anticipating and all but yearning to strike out against the enemy. Even from a distance, he could see the smirk on the man’s face, the delight in his eyes. He was making a hunting game of killing innocents, playing the predator. 

Dimitri would show him that he was nothing but prey.

And then, he would make sure Tomas knew it as well.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

When it was over he stood among the ashes, the few villagers they had managed to save from Solon and his ilk huddling among the safety. The village was burning, some of the houses had already collapsed. The air was thick with the smell of ash and blood. Corpses littered the dirt streets, the blood they had lost turning the ground muddy and wet. In death, there was no difference between the rampaging villagers they had had to cut down, the soldiers that had opposed them, and, most tragically, the victims they had been too late to save. 

Most of the people who had made it out of the village were in shock. Some of the survivors, especially the children, were crying. A little girl kept trying to break free from the huddle of people to run back into the carnage. She kept crying for her mother, her father, her brother. 

Dimitri did not walk over to them, did not try to console him. He knew that there were no words that would help them make it better. 

Unfortunately, Solon had escaped, but sooner or later he would fall to Dimitri’s blade. The haft of the lance in his hand cracked ominously as he gripped it tighter. 

The little girl continued screaming, and Dimitri turned away, walking some steps further away from the group of survivors and instead took stock of his classmates. They seemed unhurt for the most part but covered in blood and ashes. The professor and Jerald were still in the village with some of the mercenaries and knights, and he had not seen Dedue since the battle. Mercedes said he had gone to find the professor, so he was probably fine. 

Dimitri made his way along the edge of the village. It was easy to see that this had been a planned incident. The people had been blocked from leaving the village by the soldiers working with Solon before they had arrived and disturbed them. Some of the dead were obviously villagers that had been trying to get away from the massacre and then viciously struck down. Dimitri found his anger rising again, but forced himself to breathe deeply and push it aside. There was nothing he could do about it now. He only hoped that the church would find a way to help the survivors, especially the children. 

“Hey.” An angry voice called to him from behind and Dimitri turned to Felix standing behind to him and watching him with guarded eyes. There was something dark and sad in his gaze that betrayed the anger he had heard in Felix’s voice. Dimitri could not hold his gaze knowing full well how Felix reacted to him losing control, but he also could not bring himself to turn away. Instead, he studied the tense line of his friend's jaw. Unlike at the western rebellion, Dimitri had not lost himself to the fighting completely he had been aware of what he was doing. Aware enough to know that under any other circumstances he would not have acted as he had today, but he also did not regret it.

Felix stayed silent. Dimitri watched him swallow. Watched as he bit his lip, shook his head just slightly, some strands dark hair framing his face. Watched as Felix clenched and unclenched his fists. He did not speak. 

“Is this how it is going to be?” Felix eventually asked him, Dimitri had to strain to hear his voice over the still crackling flames.

”What?” he asked, and his voice came out sounding rough and oddly distant even to his own ears. Felix carded a hand through his hair, more stands escaped the already messy bun on top of his head. 

“Is this how it’s going to be every time something like this happens? Something like… like Duscur? If those people are involved…” Felix grimaced and turned away from Dimitri to look at the flames. “Are you going to rush in like that? Without thought? Without reason? Killing and killing and killing?”

Dimitri had no answer for him. Instead, he looked down at his gauntleted hands, red with the blood of the monsters that had caused this massacre, and he felt inexplicably tired. 

Next to him, Felix sighed, he sounded as tired as Dimitri felt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this chapter! Enjoy the White Heron Cup instead.

With the Ethereal Moon came something else that Dimitri had forgotten about, something that given what had happened in Remire, he felt he could have done without. The end of the Year ball, and before it, the White Heron Cup. 

Dimitri found it harder and harder to keep the mask of civility in place, but he at least tried to keep up with his studies. Still, when the Professor approached him about the representative of their class he found himself smiling and engaging her in conversation, though he had made it quite clear that he was not a good choice in this endeavor. 

“Most of our classmates have had some dancing instructions in the past, professor,” he informed her and ignored the way Dedue shifted uncomfortably next to him. His friend had not enjoyed the lessons, though they had been theoretical in nature, as Dimitri was not in any way capable of teaching Dedue how to dance, and none of his old friends had picked up the slack.

The professor gave him a thoughtful look, “I will ask.” she informed him before leaving. Dimitri knew that the professor was a woman of few words, but sometimes it made understanding her a bit difficult, at this moment he assumed that she was going to ask around among their classmates.

“Who do you think will represent our class, Dedue?”

The man from Ducur looked thoughtful, though there was a pleased light in his eyes, Dimitri felt a stab of regret, knowing that his recent behavior had caused Dedue plenty of worry, but he also knew that Dedue understood and would support him in finding and eliminating those savages in any way he could.

“I can’t be sure, your Highness. Annette seems enthusiastic about such things, and I do not believe Sylvain would turn down the opportunity to be at the center of attention. Not if the professor… phrased incorrectly.”

Dimitri chuckled and nodded his agreement, both Annette and Sylvain could make excellent representatives. “Do you think she might choose Felix?”

Dedue simply looked at him.

Dimitri knew that his two closest friends rarely interacted, and mostly kept away from each other even here in the academy. Although Dimitri wished differently, he had decided against pushing the matter, especially because he knew just how vicious Felix could be. Dedue did not deserve such vitriol. 

“I do not know, your Highness,” Dedue responded evenly.

Dimitri hummed, “He is not the kind of person who could enjoy the spectacle of it, but he is the most graceful of us.”

But for all that he listened, Dedue did not seem keen to engage in a discussion on the matter, so, with some regret, Dimitri let the matter drop. 

The Professor came back not much later with Felix in tow and the slightest of smiles on her face. Dimitri liked it when the Professor smiled, but something about the mischievous light dancing in her eyes and the smirk on Felix’s face set him on the edge. He wondered if the professor had chosen Felix. Despite his current unease, the thought filled him with anticipation. He had never seen the White Heron dance, but there had been a performance in Fhirdiad when he was a child, and one of the performers had given a solo dance after it had been revealed they had represented the blue lion house during their time in the monastery. The dance had been amazing.

“Have you chosen our representative?” Dimitri inquired, eyes flickering to Felix whose smirk widened even further and whose eyes danced with delight. It was a rare look on him and Dimitri could not bring himself to look away. He wondered when he had last seen Felix look so genuinely cheerful. 

“I have,“ The professor said and gave him an intent look. Dimitri frowned back at her. 

“I see? Who shall it be Professor?” 

Felix probably, given that he was with Byleth, but for all that he enjoyed the sight of Felix’s joy, he did not think that being chosen as a representative would cause such a reaction.

The professor was still watching him, gaze unwavering. Felix’s lips kept twitching and it kept distracting Dimitri away from the staredown the professor was trying to engage him in.

Eventually, she broke the silence.

“You.”

“What?” Dimitri exclaimed half shouted, half whined before he could hold it back. He jerked back a step in response, eyes flickering between Felix, now openly grinning, the professor’s satisfied almost smile and Dedue’s wide eyes.

“Curse you, Professor!” The words all but tumbled from his lips before he could hold them back. Felix’s shoulders were shaking. Dimitri pressed his eyes close for a second and forced himself to take a deep breath.

“I will of course accept,” he aquisted, because this still was his professor, even if her choice of representative was honestly terrible. “But know that you have damned us all.” 

Behind her Felix lost his battle against his amusement and instead started laughing in earnest, curling in on himself as his shoulders shook. 

“You will be judged on beauty, grace, and technique.” the Professor informed him calmly, but he could see the way her eyes danced slightly. Dimitri considered the ranking criteria and cringed. 

“You get to choose the dance you wish to perform yourself,” the Professor added and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Dimitri did not feel encouraged and the dread at the thought of having to perform a solo dance of all things, in front of the whole academy and be judged on it, made him grimace as the professor walked away. Instead, he was left standing in the Knight’s Hall and fighting the urge to curse out loud. Dedue had turned his face away from him slightly, but Dimitri had heard the bitten back laugh and seen the curl of his lips before he had done so. 

Felix was still laughing, his amusement clear for all to see and hear. Thankfully, except for them, the Knight's Hall was empty. The thought of the gazes of all the knights resting on them, and worse, inquiring what had caused the usual tacticum heir of house Fraldarius to roar with laughter, was not something he was willing to entertain at this point in time. Even worse, he would have to answer them, and explain that he was going to…

“Oh no.” Dimitri groaned, a very unprincely sound, and next to him Dedue snorted, his wide shoulders shaking.

“Excuse me, your Highness, I believe I promised Ashe to assist him with the cooking today. Unless you have need of me?”

Dimitri gave him a look, knowing full well what his friend was doing, but for once Dedue avoided his gaze, looking fixedly at a point beyond Dimitri’s shoulder. Dedue’s lips were twitching.

“You can go, of course,” Dimitri grumbled, far less courteous then he would usually be, but Dedue was not offended. On the contrary, if anything it seemed to amuse him even further.

“Until later, Your Highness.”

And with that, the man from Duscur walked away with uncharacteristic haste leaving Dimitri alone in the training hall with Felix. Thankfully, the other man was calming down, his shoulders were still shaking occasionally, but at least the full belly laughter was done with. Dimitri missed it, but he would have missed it even more if he had not been the cause and target of the laughter. 

“Well boar, are you prepared for your next battle?” Felix inquired, still slightly out of breath, looking at him with sparkling eyes and tears of laughter clinging to his lashes. 

Dimitri gave him a stern look to show that he wasn’t very amused. “I hope the Professor plans on assisting me with this endeavor. I have no idea what kind of dance I am supposed to perform. It’s ridiculous, what possessed her to nominate me?”

Felix chuckled. He had straightened out of his slouch and instead placed his hands on his hips. It was a steady stance, highlighting the symmetry of his form and the elegance of his long limbs. Dimitri could almost imagine him in the reception hall, wrapped in a traditional dancers costume with his long hair for once unbound and flaring around him. Felix would manage to portray the intent behind the dance well, he would manage to make each movement seem graceful and deliberate. 

“She should have chosen you,” He found himself saying. Felix’s brow furrowed and he looked at him. Dimitri swallowed and tried to explain. “I did tell her you would be better at it. You are graceful, beautiful and you never had any trouble doing the steps when we had lessons. I would really have liked to see you dance… It is a shame.”

He shook his head in disbelief. Did the professor want to lose? He looked at Felix again and found his friend watching him with a peculiar look on his face and a blush on his cheeks. Dimitri wondered why and gave his friend a curious smile if anything that made the flush of Felix’s cheeks deepened, made it crawl down his throat.

“Felix?”

“...You will do fine.” Felix told him, looking away abruptly, “You are not as graceless as you think.”

Dimitri’s smile grew. “Thank you. I appreciate it, but there is no need to sugar coat it. This will be a disaster.”

Felix chuckled. “You only need to do one dance. Think of it as footwork and go from there,” he looked at Dimitri and raised his brows. “And fighting is something you can do.”

Dimitri nodded though hesitantly, “I am hardly graceful when I fight.”

The look he got from Felix at that was a strange one, intent and searching, it made his skin tingle and Dimitri had to fight back the desire to fidget. 

“Mhm,” Felix shook his head and looked away, his arms crossing over his chest, and curiously, Dimitri found himself missing being the center of his focus. “You will simply have to practice.”

Dimitri nodded in agreement, before attempting to change the subject. “I will, but for now, are you up for a spar.”

That got Felix’s gaze to return to him, causing Dimitri to smile until the swordsman spoke. “Of course, will you be using a lance or a sword for your dance? A martial dance will probably fit you best…” 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

There was no escaping dancing practice. The fact that Dimitri himself would be representing their house spread through his classmates from the Blue Lion house quickly, and he also got some looks from members of the other houses. 

His own class at least was very enthusiastic in helping him practice, though some of them were more helpful than others. Flayn and Annette were the ones who joined him most often, both of them had apparently offered to represent the class as well but had been turned down by the Professor. Dimitri’s heart burned at the injustice and he barely held himself back from pouting when the Professor came to help him practice the steps he had come up with with the help from Ashe—apparently, an enthusiast about storytelling, Sylvain, because dancing had to be sexy—why, just why him?—and Ingrid to supervise Sylvain, and Annette who apparently enjoyed music and enthusiastic movement. 

Dimitri was thankful that the rest of his class had vetoed her suggestions that he sing along as well, he was not sure he would have been able to withstand her enthusiasm, especially given the fact that Felix seemed to greatly enjoy the song she had come up with. 

One of his most common dance partners was Flayn, who almost always seemed to find him when he snuck away and forced himself through the motions of the dance. He felt incredibly awkward doing it. The last time he had felt that awkward with a lance in hand had been when he had been a child and at the tender age of five had tried to swing Areadbhar around. 

Flayn, however, was terribly enthusiastic. She followed along through the motion and only her example proved to him that they could look somewhat graceful. It also showed that she had a surprising talent for the lance. She should have been their representative, they would have actually had a chance at winning the cup. 

Felix mostly just stuck to watching, the only time he actually joined in on the practice it was when Dimitri and Flayn were in the training yard after dinner. There was a minor test in magic the next day, but Flayn had apparently aced the subject and Dimitri did not take the class, so the training yard was unusually empty.

Flayn had just instructed him to bend just the slightest bit more and angle his shoulder further in—a move that Dimitri’s reflexes protested again, as they would cause him to unbalance should he actually have to swing his lance when she straightened from her half-crouch with a big smile on her face.

“Felix! It is so good of you to join us!” She exclaimed and waved her arms cheerfully. “What do you think? Should Dimitri move his shoulder in more.”

Felix who had apparently been resting on behind the low wall that separated the training yard from the small spectator area stepped forward with a scowl in his face. “No, it will unbalance him.”

Dimitri was glad that he at least agreed, though he had been struggling with that part for the last ten minutes, and he would really have appreciated Felix’s interference earlier.

“But it would look better!” Flayn insisted. Felix remained unmoved and Dimitri lowered his lance from the ready position to watch their argument unfold. 

Apparently deciding that it would be easier to get her point across if Felix actually knew what the movement looked like when it was performed in the fashion she wanted it to, Flayn readied her lance and went through the swing and twirl and spin and slide, all the while singing the song Annette had come up with to help him memorize the sequence. In all honesty, it had helped, but Dimitri would not be caught singing about ‘shrooby, dooby, swirly, whirly mushrooms’, no matter how dignified Felix managed to look while humming along. 

On Flayn the movement did indeed look elegant and dignified, but, Dimitri noted somewhat smugly, she stumbled when she did the modified slide. Felix smirked, obviously he had spotted it as well. Flayn stopped immediately after, huffed in frustration, and gave them a rather irritated look. 

“It does look better,“ she insisted, and Felix and Dimitri both humored her with nods, thankfully Felix’s indulgence of Flayn stopped at that. Dimitri had feared that this would be another Annette’s song situation.

“It will look pretty until the moment the boar stumbles and falls on his face in front of all the students in the academy.“ Dimitri shivered at the thought, he would rather avoid that.

“Well,” Flayn said, the stubbornness not gone from her face, but joined by something thoughtful. “But the original movement looks clunky! It doesn’t go with the rest of the marvelous dance we have come up with at all, Felix!” 

Felix seemed to consider this, and Dimitri hoped they would decide then and there that he was terribly unsuitable for the role and take pity on him. He was feeling plenty pitiful.

Instead, Felix turned to look at him and seized him up carefully. 

“Mhm.” he said, “Go through the movement. I want to see how it actually looks.”

“I just showed you!” Flayn insisted, but Felix simply waved his hand.

“He has a different reach from you, and his center of balance is different. TThe same movement might look different on him.”

The girl considered that also turning to regard Dimitri. Her serious expression seemed just a tad overdone, and Dimitri found himself smiling slightly.

“I see.” Flayn eventually decided. “Of course. He is much taller than me, we should take a close look at how it flows for him.” She nodded seriously, and when Felix joined in and gave Dimitri an imperious look and a regal sweep of his hand towards the center of the training ground, he knew that he was in for a long afternoon.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Practicing his dancing took his mind of what had happened in Remire. It did not vanish from his mind—such atrocities never could—but they took a step back behind the pressure of having to dance in front of the whole school. 

Then another step back, almost all the way to Fhirdiad, when Mercedes and the Professor presented him with the clothes the two of them had designed for him. Apparently, despite the fact that each class was provided with an outfit the students were encouraged to personalize it and make it more fitting for the dance they had chosen. 

The Professor and Mercedes had been very enthusiastic about the matter and somehow had managed to get Ingrid involved as well. After Sylvain had taken one look at the design and started giggling, Dimitri had had to live with the dread that whatever it was they were producing; he would have to wear it. He was just glad that the Professor had eventually— though reluctantly—agreed to his insistence on gloves.

However, the dread that had haunted him from that moment on had nothing on the sheer disbelief that had settled in his gut the moment he had actually been presented with the clothes. On the upside, there was more fabric than Dimitri had feared, on the downside, the fabric was not where he wanted it to be. 

Mercedes and the Professor had made him model the outfit for them, and while Mercedes had informed him that he looked dashing and the Professor had given him the look she always gave him when he performed beyond her expectations in class, he had felt uncomfortable wearing it. It wasn’t  _ indecent _ , the rules would not have allowed it anyway. And while Dimitri could understand that a larger range of motion was required for the dancing…. 

He would have liked pants. 

Actual pants and not shorts that left his legs bare and were so short that they weren’t even visible under the actual skirt they had put him in. And then there were the sandals and the wrappings and the absence of a shirt, because Mercedes and the Professor had said it was unnecessary, and the bag of jewelry, fragile and fine and breakable, they had given him. All in all, Dimitri was sure that this was not the kind of outfit he should be wearing. Other people might be able to pull it off, but Dimitri would embarrass himself, and his class tomorrow. Training or not, this was not the kind of battle he was prepared for. 

The restlessness and disquiet stayed with him throughout the day—passed dinner and late into the evening hours. Like so often, he found that he could not sleep, so eventually, Dimitri decided to get some fresh air and get out of the room—his room—where the dancer outfit hung. 

He made his way to the training ground, carefully making sure to stay as quiet as possible to not disturb his sleeping classmates. Thankfully, the training yard was empty when he arrived. No other students or knights were around, so he grabbed one of the training lances and made his way to the center of the practice field.

Falling back into the position that was the starting point of the dance, Dimitri decided to try it one more time. Hoping against hope to finally get through it without a stumble. 

He had only finished the first movement set when a snort interrupted him. Dimitri tensed for a beat before relaxing as he recognized the intruder.

“Felix.”

“Yes.” The other boy stepped out between the pillars, a training sword in hand, and dressed down for the evening, his hair only held back in a ponytail. “Getting in some last-minute practice, I see—”

Dimitri huffed slightly, “Hardly, the dance is tomorrow evening, I shall have plenty of time to get in the last minute practice tomorrow.”

Felix only raised his brows and made his way across the yard towards him. Each of the swordsman’s steps was carefully balanced, effortlessly elegant, and when he moved his sword upwards it seemed like an extension of his arm. 

“How about a spar then? If you don’t need to train right now.”

Dimitri hesitated, torn between his desire to get the dance right and his desire to spar with Felix.

“Well…” he muttered, shifting his stance and carefully setting the but of the lance on the ground. “I… wanted to go through the form.”

“Mhm.” Felix still watched him, he had not moved from his position, still holding his sword upwards slightly, too high for an at-ease stance, too low to be a proper starting position, it was, however, a striking pose. “You still have trouble with it?”

There was a slightly mocking edge to his tone, not mean, more teasing really, but Dimitri flushed in embarrassment all the same and avoided his gaze.

“Yes… The professor really should have chosen someone else. I told her it was a bad idea.”

Felix shook his head and clicked his tongue. Then he moved, taking a step towards Dimitri, sword raised, but it wasn’t an attack.

Felix’s sword spun through the air in a half-circle. Then Felix turned his body halfway with the movement and raised his sword in a salute, there was a smirk on his face, Dimitri took a half step back and raised his lance in a similar salute, lifted straight from the formal beginning of the Blaiddyd lance form. It wasn’t a fighting move, and generally only used when the form was performed for inspection. Felix’s smirk widened. 

“Come on.” he taunted, “Or have you forgotten how to fight with all the dancing you have been doing?”

Dimitri sighed but did not lower his lance, instead, he shifted slightly, so he was better balanced. “Only once.”

Felix's grin was feral, but to Dimitri’s surprise, he did not attack, instead he tilted his head and raised his brows in challenge. He did not speak, but Dimitri could hear the taunting ‘Well?’ loud and clear all the same.

Letting out a small huff, Dimitri shifted his stance slightly, watched as Felix mirrored him, moving to adjust his own stance to better prepare for the assault, and then he began.

His first strike met the blade of Felix’s sword and swept it aside. To his surprise Felix did not try to redirect his movement, instead, he spun with it, turning in a full circle and using the momentum to take a sweep at Dimitri. Dimitri stepped back, to the side, shifted his lance, and flowed into the movement. 

Their fight began, but it was different from what Dimitri was used to from Felix. The speed was the same, but he seemed more focused on sweeping attacks then piercing ones today. Felix forced Dimitri to change his usual style as well: Never before did Dimitri have to dodge and change his position so much. The battle dragged on, but eventually, Dimitri spotted an opening. Felix had faltered in his last stance, the strike Dimitri had delivered against his sword making his guard falter and drop. 

Dimitri did not give him a chance to recover, he slid forward, used the bladeless end of his lance to sweep low across the ground, and swept Felix’s legs from under him. Felix fell backward, trying to turn his fall so he could roll to his feet again, but Dimitri would not let him, he went down to one knee and used the lance to pin Felixto the ground. Their battle came to an end.

Both of them were breathing slightly heavily, but Dimitri was taken aback for a moment when he spotted the satisfied smirk on Felix’s face. Felix had never liked losing, so why?

Upon the realization of their position, another realization, this time in regards to spar rushed through him, and Dimitri laughed. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, the end position he had found himself in and why Felix’s guard had dropped in the last moment, allowing him to finish that strike. Why Felix seemed pleased with his defeat. 

Dimitri felt warmth rush through him and his worry faded as he mentally reviewed their spar. Each move, each strike, each twist and turn and spin, Felix had led him through had been part of the dance. Some of them had been adopted, a sweep replaced by a strike, a turn changed for a swerve, but the essence of it had remained the same. 

“Felix, you…” he could not have stopped smiling even if he tried. Felix who was still on the ground chanced a quick look at him before tearing his gaze away. He was blushing, Dimitri noted with affection. “Thank you.”

He held out his hand to help Felix up from the ground, and, after a brief hesitation, Felix took it, his fingers curling around Dimitri’s before he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. 

“Don’t think too much of it,” Felix informed him, resolutely not looking at him and he patted the first from his clothes. “I have seen you practice this dance often enough that it would be embarrassing if I had not figured out the steps.”

Dimitri was smiling so wide his cheeks were hurting. He had seen Felix around when he was practicing, but he must have paid a lot of attention, must have put thought into it to manage to draw Dimitri through it without him catching on. To make the dance seem natural. 

“Of course.” he glanced from Felix to his lance, shifted his grip slightly, and raised it in a salute. “One more time?” he asked, smiling.

Felix gave him a long look, but eventually nodded and returned Dimitri’s salute. They began again, and this time Dimitri was aware of the fact that they were following the choreography, but he did not falter. Every time he came close to it, the press of Felix's sword against his lance resettled his focus. 

They reached the end of the battle again, Dimitri on his knees above Felix, the tip of his lance at his throat. Dimitri did not know how it had not occurred to him that the last move was a killing strike before Felix had fought him through it. 

They were both breathing heavily, Felix was still smirking. 

“Well, boar? Do you think you can pull it off tomorrow?”

With a huff, Dimitri clambered off him and sat down on the ground next to him. He placed the lance next to him, breathing deeply and attempting to regulate his breathing. 

“Probably,” Dimitri told him and glanced to the side, “Thank you, Felix.”

Felix was watching him, his bun half undone and hair sticking to his sweaty face, a flush of excretion high on his cheeks. 

“It’s a shame you can’t dance together with me,” Dimitri told him, hoping to get a smile or a laugh from his friend. 

Instead, Felix watched him for a moment, no trace of humor on his face and something dark in his gaze. Dimitri stiffened, but before he could ask what was wrong, Felix turned away from him with a huff of laughter. 

“First you want someone else to do it for you, now you want company.” He shook his head, “Unfortunately for you, it's one representative per class.”

Dimitri paused, considered pushing, but then let it go. “Ah, so you would not be opposed otherwise?”

Felix sputtered, and Dimitri laughed. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri did not do any last-minute training the next day. Reframing the dance as an actual battle had managed to calm him and give him security. If there was one thing Dimitri knew he was good at, it was fighting. Though the dance was not his usual style, he believed he had experienced enough to pull it off.

The calm was shaken the moment he stepped into the reception hall dressed in the dancer's outfit. Despite his newfound confidence that he could manage to get through the dance without embarrassing himself, he was still not comfortable in the clothes. The only upside was that the professor had been right when she had told him that those clothes were still pretty close to the standard ones. Both Ferdinand and Hilda, the representatives for the Black Eagles and Golden Deer respectively, wore clothes similar to his, if on different color schemes, though Dimitri noted, not without envy, that Ferdinand had a proper shirt. He also had more jewelry than Hilda. 

They were called into the middle of the floor to the cheers of their classmates. Dimitri could make out the sound of Sylvain wolf-whistling in the crowd, and by the way that he cut off rather unnaturally, Ingrid had likely found him too. 

Dimitri would go second, he supposed that it was the best choice. He would not like being the last to go, and the only good thing about going first was that it would be behind him. 

Hilda went first, the style of her dance completely different from Dimitri’s own, and the music was bright and cheerful, different from the ominous one the professor had presented him with. He could not help but wonder how the judges would account for these differences in their decision. 

Hilda’s dance was nice. It was engaging and very cheerful, and Dimitri found himself nodding along to the beat, while Ferdinand next to him vibrated with excitement. The dance would likely have been even better if he did not have to compete against her, or if it was a bit longer. Because to Dimitri, it seemed that his turn came far too soon. 

The students cheered and Hilda swept down into a cheerful bow before twirling one last time to the rising applause of her classmates. Then she left the stage and Alois called Dimitri to step forward. 

The moment he stepped onto the stage his nerves returned full force, and he swore that for a moment he forgot all the steps. His gaze wandered over his classmates. Edelgard was watching him curiously, Hubert sitting next to her with an unreadable expression. He caught the eye of Sylvain who cheered and winked at him, Dedue who gave him an encouraging smile, Annette and Ashe bouncing with excitement. Ingrid snacks in hand, and Mercedes who looked at him with pleasure. 

Then he spotted Felix at the back of the crowd leaning against a pillar, he had a smirk on his lips and when their gazes met, it widened. 

Swordless, Felix raised his hand in a salute. It was enough. 

Dimitri breathed in deep and let the tension and with it, the reception hall fall away. He ignored the switch of the skirts around his legs and focused on the grip of the lance in his hand. He imagined that he was back in the training yard. Imagined Felix standing across from him, sword in hand and smirking at him in challenge.

Dimitri twirled the lance—a showy gesture that the professor had insisted on—went into the starting position, and, as the music began, he moved. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

By some miracle, Dimitri won, beating both Ferdinand’s impeccable posture and footwork and Hilda’s enthusiastic engagement and joy. Alois praised him loudly, and his classmates cheered and applauded. 

Hilda and Ferdinand barely had time to congratulate him—in fact, Ferdinand did not manage to finish his speech—before the rest of the Blue Lions reached him.

“Great going, your Highness!” Sylvain exclaimed as he threw an arm around his shoulder and squeezed him to his side. “You definitely got better at the dancing thing. I expected something else.”

Ashe was next, “It looked amazing, your Highness! I never thought it would come together so well!”

“You did not do the sweep we practiced,” Flayn threw in, “But Ashe is right, it all looked very elegant!”

“Almost like a spar,” Ingrid agreed. “I suppose it makes sense that you won, your highness, this certainly qualifies you to step on the battlefield as a dancer.”

Dimitri would never. 

“You looked so dashing, Dimitri. The costume was excellent.”

Mercedes’ eyes were sparkling, and her lips curled into a teasing smile. Annette next to her all but bouncing in agreement. “Mercy is right! You went swoosh and whoosh and you looked really elegant your highness!”

Dimitri felt his lips twitch.

“Not like a mushroom?”

Annette flushed, and lightly punched his arm. “No! Not like that.”

The others laughed. 

“This calls for a celebration!” Sylvain exclaimed eventually, swaying back and force with his arm still around Dimitri’s shoulders. 

“And snacks.” Ingrid added insistently, “A celebration needs snacks.”

“I suppose,” Dedue said. “I could prepare some.”

Ingrid gave him a hesitant smile, and warmth filled Dimitri at seeing Ingrid slowly accept Dedue for the person he was, and move past her hatred. 

“I will help as well,” Ashe said, and Mercedes insisted on bringing some of her sweets as well. Dimitri could see Ingrid’s eyes sparkling at each food item mentioned, and he shared a laughing look with Sylvain. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

After some more planning with his class, Dimitri retired back to the changing room. Dedue had made to follow him, but Dimitri had told him to stay. After all, Dedue had wanted to prepare some late night snacks to celebrate the blue lion’s victory—and Dimitri still could not believe that he had actually won. 

When he closed the door to the changing room behind him he let out a deep sigh. It was over, he could get out of the outfit and back into his actual clothes. He was sure he could convince the professor that, qualification or not, there was no reason for him to actually train in the dancer class, or at least talk her into proper armor. Faeghus was cold after all. 

The first thing he got rid of was the jewelry. Each moment he had spent wearing it he had been painfully aware of the fragility of the pieces, and with each moment he had waited for one of them to bend or rip. First the armbands, then the bangles on his ankles, followed by the necklaces and finally the far too fine gold strands in his hair.

By some miracle, Dimitri had only dented the armbands slightly and left the rest intact as far as he could see. 

Next, he moved onto the long gloves. They had originally not been part of the outfit, but Dimitri had insisted that he would not go without. The Professor had told him that the scars were nothing to be ashamed of, but Dimitri would prefer to do without the glances of his year mates following him, wondering what had happened to his hands. He still remembered the one maid who had gasped in horror when she first saw them and had been unable to meet his eyes until his uncle had moved her to work somewhere else. 

Surprisingly, Dimitri had found that he liked the gloves. Much like the rest of the outfit they were made from a soft, though surprisingly durable material, and while the dark blue and the fine golden stitching on them would probably look strange with most outfits, Dimitri was glad that he got to keep them. He carefully folded them and set them aside. 

Then he paused, unsure with which piece to continue. The shoes? The belt? The shoulder cape?

A knock on the wood of the door frame made him turn around. Felix was standing in the doorway and gazing at him with a complicated expression.

“Congratulations,” he said and Dimitri found himself smiling, though it was a self-deprecating one. 

“Thank you. I still cannot believe I won. I felt like I looked ridiculous.” He shuddered and gestured towards his outfit, “I would have almost preferred ballroom dancing.”

Felix chuckled and shook his head, his eyes trailing over Dimitri’s form. His look was intent, and it felt a bit like he was being sized up, but for what Dimitri wasn’t sure. Unconsciously, he straightened his shoulders and firmed his stance, unintentionally shifting the strange skirt and making it gape at the side and revealing his leg for a moment. 

Dimitri shifted again, flushing in embarrassment. He had no idea why he could not have worn a pair of wide pants. That would have been far more comfortable. 

Felix's eyes followed the movement. Moving up his legs, and following the diagonal wrap of his cloth, lingering on Dimitri’s bared arms, and trailing along his collarbones. The intensity of it made Dimitri all but vibrate in his skin. Felix's gaze slowly wandered up his throat, over his chin, and nose, and finally to his eyes. When their gazes met, Felix flushed, his eyes widening in surprise, and turned away. 

Felix cleared his throat shifting awkwardly where he stood, “You, well,“ he cleared his throat again, the red still lingered on his cheeks, and Dimitri found that for some reason he was blushing as well, ”You, You didn’t look ridiculous.” Felix blurted out.”You did well.” he cleared his throat, “You won after all...”

Dimitri blinked in surprise, “You think I deserved it?”

The look he got in return for that question was sharp, “Yes.”

“Oh.” Dimitri breathed. “That… um.” 

He had no idea what to say. Thankfully, Felix wasn’t waiting for an answer, he had removed his gaze from Dimitri again and was looking around the room, his arms folded across his chest. 

“You won, good on you. Make sure to tell the old man. He will be pleased.” 

Dimitri huffed with laughter, glad to have the awkwardness swept aside. “Of course. You know, he did tease me about representing the Blue Lion house before I went to the academy.”

Felix shot him a curious look, lips curled in humor. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Dimitri sighed, “Just like everyone else, he reminded me of my enthusiasm for dancing when we were children.”

Felix nodded. “You did like it a lot, even if you were bad at it.”

Awkwardly, Dimitri cleared his throat. It had taken him embarrassingly long to figure that out. He had thought he had improved a lot after his first lessons with El. “No one told me that.” Until Dedue that is.

That made Felix chuckle. “No, you enjoyed yourself so much, we did not want to.”

Dimitri huffed, “Well, at least I’ll be done with dancing for a while now.” 

He would not be able to escape it forever of course, not once he ascended the throne. 

To his surprise, Felix laughed.

“Really?” He asked, “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

It took Dimitri a moment to understand what Felix was referring to, but when he did he grimaced. Judging by the smug turn of Felix’s lip, it did not go unnoticed.

“Right.”

The end of the month. The End of the year ball. Ballroom dancing. And more than that—

“Right,” he murmured again, his gaze flickering up to Felix who was still leaning against the wall, then he continued with a sigh. “I will have to open the End of the Year ball, won’t I?”

Felix only nodded, amusement still clear. 

Dimitri thought about that, slumping slightly against the desk that held the jewelry. Felix didn’t say anything further, he just remained standing where he was and they remained in comfortable silence. Then, a thought occurred to Dimitri. 

As the champion of the White Heron Cup, he would have to dance the opening dance at the ball, however, it was traditional for the champion to dance with their house leader. Dimitri just happened to be both, and he could hardly dance the opening dance by himself. That meant he would have to choose a partner, wouldn’t he? Maybe he could get to see Felix dance after all. 

“Felix.”

At the call of his name, the other boy turned towards him questioningly. 

“What? Shouldn’t you get out of those—” he gestured to the dancer's garments that Dimitri was still wearing, “And join the party?”

Dimitri nodded absentmindedly, “I will, but, ah— first—”

He hesitated minutely but then shook it away. 

With a smile he held out his hand, it was bare and the light of the lamps flickered over it, highlighting the bumps and scars on his skin, but for once Dimitri did not feel self-conscious about it. 

“Will you dance with me?”

“What?” Felix looked at him in confusion. “What are you on about? Haven’t you danced enough today?”

Dimitri laughed again, wiggling his fingers. “Oh, I would dance with you now, though a normal spar would be appreciated as well. That is not what I meant, however.”

Felix simply looked at him, gaze flickering between Dimitri’s face and his hands. The flush was back on his face. Dimitri wiggled his fingers again, and Felix batted his hand down, Dimitri let him, catching his hand within his own and giving it a squeeze, gently of course.

“What are you doing, honestly?” Felix sounded exasperated, but his struggle to remove his hand from Dimitri’s grip was only for show, he put no effort into it. 

“I am asking you to dance with me at the End of the Year ball. As you said, as the champion, I will have to dance, and since I am also the house leader…”

He trailed off with a shrug and felt Felix’s hand still in his grip follow along with the movement.

“So Felix? Dance with me?” Dimitri gave him a bright smile. “It’s just one dance.”

Dimitri had hoped for an acceptance of course, but he would not have been put off by a firm no, the reaction he got, however, was not one he expected.

For a moment, Felix froze, simply looking at him—his eyes a little too wide and somehow making him seem terribly vulnerable in that moment—before quickly looking down at their hands again. His mouth moved soundlessly until he bit his lip so hard it bled.

Dimitri felt his eyes widen in alarm. “Felix what—”

But his friend cut him off, stepping away, and gently, but firmly pulling his hand from Dimitri’s grip, then Felix looked up again and met Dimitri’s gaze.

“I will have to refuse.”

Dimitri blinked. “What—”

“I have no interest in putting on a show.” The smirk was back on Felix’s face, but with the blood still lingering on his lip, Dimitri could not shake the feeling that the expression was forced. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Felix continued.

“Urg. Can you imagine it? If I dance with you, people will think I actually want to dance. Honestly, I plan on skipping the ball completely. The training ground will be empty, and I plan to take advantage of it.”

Felix’s (forced?) smirk turned a little teasing. “I would have indulged you with a spar, boar, but as the champion.” he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Dimitri studied him for a moment, wondering if he had imagined it, Felix smirk did not falter, and by now it did look genuine, but the blood was still on his lip.

“Felix?”

“Mhm?” Felix seemed unconcerned now. 

“You…” Before he could elaborate Felix rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t misunderstand, honestly, I was just shocked that you would ask me. Use your brain, boar. People will expect you to make a political move out of it, and choose a proper noble lady.”

Something sour settled in Dimitri’s stomach.

“It’s a school ball, Felix.”

Felix hummed in agreement. “And many heirs form all over the continent are attending the academy right now.”

Dimitri grimaced, mostly because he knew Felix was right. This is what Rodrigue would advise as well, and what Rufus would insist on. It wasn’t like he would have avoided it completely, he had just hoped...

“You should have been our representative,“ Dimitri said plaintively, and if he was pouting just a little no one could see. 

Felix sputtered, “What? This again? Why?” 

Because Dimitri really wanted to dance with him, and if Felix had been their representative, he could have surely won as well, and then he would have had to open the Ball together with his house leader, who was Dimitri. Though the reason was clear in his head, Dimitri could not bring himself to say it out loud. 

“Well,“ he mumbled instead, “Rodrigue did say it was almost a family tradition.”

Felix made a sound of disgust, and Dimitri chuckled.

“A shame the professor did not agree.”

“No,” Felix refuted, “It really wasn’t.” Then he turned towards the door. “Get changed, boar, the other’s are waiting for you.”

Startled by the sudden departure, Dimitri blinked after him for a moment before remembering something important.

“Felix,” Dimitri called out before the other boy could leave. Felix turned around again, halfway to the door. “What?”

Dimitri held out his arms helplessly making his clothes sway. “How do I get out of this?”

The look Felix shot him could have stripped paint.


	7. Chapter 7

Contrary to all common advice, Dimitri had not chosen to dance with one of the eligible young ladies. He knew his duty well enough, of course. He knew that he was expected to court a lady, marry her and produce an heir, but this wasn’t the time for that. Dimitri had enemies in every corner. He needed to deal with the instability of the kingdom, figure out the truth behind Duscur and eradicate those responsible. Everything else could—and would—wait.

He had ended up asking Flayn to dance with him. Partly because he knew she would not misunderstand the gesture, and partly because he was still taken aback by their last conversation. Her words about the wishes of the dead—though contrary to what he knew to be true—had echoed Felix’s own words from before they left for the academy. It also brought the memory of his and Felix’s fight back to the forefront of his mind.

Dancing with Flayn had been fun, though it had been a bit embarrassing to have her mumble ‘ouch’, and ‘oww’, and ‘oops’ every time they stepped on each other’s feet. Funnily enough, he seemed to have left a pleasant enough impression on Seteth that the man had not tried to murder him with his eyes when Dimitri danced with his sister. Even when he had danced more than just the opening dance with her. 

The ball was still in full swing, and even close to the Goddess Tower, Dimitri could still faintly hear the sound of the music and the low thrum that was the chatter of his year mates. All in all the evening had been pleasant enough, though he felt like he had enough of dancing for a while now.

The air outside was fresh and cool, a pleasant change from the slightly stuffy and overheated reception hall, and he was not the only one enjoying it. He wandered across the grounds of the monastery and passed the empty training yard as well as the gardens where he intently avoided taking a closer look at the closeth he could spot among some of the bushes. 

Eventually, he made his way across the bridge towards the cathedral. At this time it should be mostly empty, so he could sit down and think for a while. He was eighteen now, an adult in the eyes of the Holy Kingdom. His education at the monastery would be over soon, and then he would be crowned. Dimitri wasn’t sure what to feel about it. He knew what was expected of him, of course. He had been prepared for it his whole life. He also knew that it was necessary, that the kingdom needed stability, especially given the recent events.

When he spotted movement at the bottom of the Goddess tower, Dimitri frowned. Most of the students should still be at the ball and—

The figure looked familiar, he squinted to get a better look, and though the darkness of the night made it hard to be certain, he was fairly sure that it was Felix.

Felix hadn’t been at the ball. Dimitri had looked for him and not found him. Instead had assumed the other boy had gone through with his plans from the beginning of the month and gone to the training yard. And since the yard had been empty when Dimitri had walked past it, he had assumed Felix had gone to bed early. What was he doing out here so late?

Curious, Dimitri changed his original route and, instead of entering the cathedral, went past it towards the goddess tower. The door at the bottom wasn’t closed completely, and he could easily step inside and start climbing, one hand on the wall for orientation.

Only when he was halfway up the stairs did he remember the legend about the tower and which night it was. That meant that he was likely sneaking up on a couple, meeting up to make a wish together. A couple which included Felix.

A flush crawled up his neck, and a strange feeling settled in his stomach. Dimitri considered turning around, it would be the right thing to do, he knew it, yet, he found his feet carrying him upwards. It was still too early for couples to meet here. Maybe Felix had just come earlier and would be waiting alone. Dimitri could leave before the arranged time. He had only seen one person after all.

And he was right. As soon as he stepped out of the staircase he found Felix leaning on the railing of the tower balcony. He was on his own. 

Awkwardly, Dimitri cleared his throat, but Felix did not turn around, he simply raised a hand in greeting.

“Shouldn’t you still be at the ball, boar?”

Dimitri hesitated momentarily before crossing the distance between them. It was fine. Felix had not told him to go away. “I needed some fresh air.”

Felix only hummed and stayed where he was. Hesitantly, Dimitri walked over to him. “Are you waiting for someone?”

At that question, Felix turned to face him, an incredulous look on his face. Dimitri flushed. “What was I supposed to think?” he defended himself, “It is the night of the ball.”

Felix snorted and shook his head. “Is that why you are here then? Shall I leave you, boar? Some lady waiting for you?”

Dimitri groaned. “Who do you take me for? Sylvain?”

Felix chuckled, and returned his attention to the sky, Dimitri stepped up next to him. 

“So,” Felix asked after a moment of silence, “Why did you come here? Are you going to make a vow to the goddess?” Only because he was already watching his friend did Dimitri catch the way Felix’s eye flickering to him for a heartbeat and saw the way his lips curled teasingly, “This time on the right night of the year?”

“Ah,” Dimitri breathed, “No,” he huffed a laugh and smiled slightly at the memory, but it faded quickly, “It was rather foolish wasn’t it? Hoping for a goddess to make everything alright? We both saw how that worked out. What a good prince I turned out to be.”

He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice but did not quite manage. Thankfully, Felix did not call him out on it, he did, however, look terribly thoughtful, the smile on his face a pained one. Dimitri didn’t like it.

“You are you...” Felix said, “That’s enough, even if I don’t always like it… boar.”

Warmth filled Dimitri, but it was a bittersweet warmth. Acknowledgment and acceptance of him as he was, of the darkness he tried to hide and that Felix refused to ignore, but it was also a condemnation. 

Standing at the top of the Goddess tower again, years after the first time he had come here with Felix, Dimitri still remembered the vow, the promise, and also the day in the monastery. Back then, attending the Officer’s Academy had seemed so far away, and Dimitri had been excited to go, now, it was only a means to an end. 

Back then the legend of the Goddess tower—even if their vow had not been heard by the goddess—had been a great comfort. But even then, there had been one part he had not thought about at all. He didn’t know why it came back to him now when it was even further removed from his interest than anything else. 

“The legend was also about soulmates, wasn’t it?” Dimitri found himself asking, eyes trailing over the stars, lingering on the Blue Sea Star. “The gift of the goddess, the ability to find them… why...”

He trailed off, unsure what he actually wanted to say. Dimitri did not know who his soulmate was. Did not even have a clue as to what his guiding clue could be. He had not thought about soulmates in a long time. In all honesty, it hadn't even been that important to him the last time Felix and he had been here, and even before that, only a curiosity at best. Soulmates had always been something abstract to him, and the people close to him, who were actually by his side seemed so much more relevant. Dimitri did not think he could give up any of them; Felix, Dedue, Sylvain, Ingrid, or any of his new classmates and the friendship he had with them, up, just to find a soulmate. 

“Mhm.” Felix shifted next to him. “I suppose so, I imagine even you will figure it out someday.” he sounded sad for some reason, but teasing, all the same, Dimitri frowned, as Felix continued. “You were always a bit slow, I know that better than most.”

“Felix, that... “ Dimitri gestured his hands awkwardly, “I do not even know my clue.”

Felix laughed. “As I said, slow.”

Feeling slightly defensive, despite Felix’s gentle teasing, Dimitri cleared his throat. “It is not as though you know your soulmate either; or how to find them.”

Felix did not react, he only hummed, and leaned forward on the railing. The wind tugged more strands out of his loose bun and blew them in his face. Dimitri watched him, considered the non-answer, and felt something sour bloom in his stomach. Did that mean?

“You know how to find your soulmate?” The question had left him before he could consider the impropriety of it. Felix’s eyes snapped to him, brows raised high, and Dimitri immediately backtracked, even physically taking a step away from his friend. “I’m sorry. That’s private. I shouldn’t have asked.”

For a moment, Felix said nothing, then he turned from his spot on the railing to face Dimitri. “It’s fine,” he said, a smile on her face, and something Dimitri could not identify in his tone. ”Yes, I have known how to find my soulmate for years.”

“Oh.” Dimitri shifted on his feet, busied his hands with tugging at his cape. “So you… are you going to search for them? I mean, after the academy… Rodrigue would surely…”

What would Dimitri do if Felix were to leave for good? It was a terrifying thought, and one he did not wish to entertain, but if Felix wanted to go, to find that one person, Dimitri would not stop him, could not without betraying their bond. But it would hurt.

Turning to face Felix again, to tell him just that, he found his friend watching him with a bemused smile. Looking more entertained than Dimitri felt the topic truly required. 

“Do you… Do you want to go find them?” Dimitri tracked on, bracing himself for the answer. Felix did not give it to him immediately, instead, he studied his expression. 

“No.” He said eventually, almost making Dimitri sputter in surprise. Dimitri dropped the now slightly frayed cape he had still been fiddling with and straightened.

“No?”

“No,” Felix repeated resolutely, “I was a child when I decided that they would have to come to me. I was, maybe six? I don’t know, but mother was still alive.” 

Dimitri blinked stumped. “That’s a long time…”

“Yes,” Felix looked amused again, “They are rather slow.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Dimitri looked away. He did not know why he did not like the answer, maybe because it was unfair to Felix’s soulmate? Or maybe it was the thought that one day there would be a person who could take Felix away. 

“And what if they don’t find you?” he did not meet Felix's gaze, afraid that his friend would see his shifting thoughts, one less charitable than the other, and not worthy of the friendship they had. “What if their clue is not one that will lead you together? Or if their clue is not telling at all?”

“I am quite aware that most do not get clues as obvious as mine,” Felix said, not without humor, stepping closer to Dimitri and bumping their shoulder together. 

“What—” Dimitri cut himself off. What is your clue? How do you know? The questions rang through his head. Felix was still looking at him, waiting for him to continue speaking, but the question Dimitri wanted to ask him was too personal by far, they weren’t questions you could ask even of your oldest friend. 

“What if they are waiting for you?” he eventually settled for asking, forcing himself to actually look at Felix. Given that they still stood shoulder to shoulder, they were closer than they had been in a long time. Even in the dark, with only the moon and the stars to give them light Dimitri could make out Felix's long lashes and the different specks of color in his amber eyes. 

This close, Felix’s eyes looked almost like a predator, too keen, too knowing. 

“...I do not think they are.” Felix informed him, then, “But… what about you Dimitri, are you waiting?”

Dimitri thought about it. “No. Not really. Soulmates… aren’t really something I think about.” he huffed slightly, “I don’t know why I even brought it up in the first place. It… It doesn’t really matter to me, as I am right now.”

He shrugged, feeling his shoulder move against Felix’s. “Soulmates were always a bit too abstract for me, maybe it is because I do not have a clue, or maybe, it is because I don’t really need a soulmate. It is not like I am alone. Ironically enough, that part of my wish did come true… I am glad.”

They were silent for a moment, Dimitri could feel Felix fidget slightly, but Felix did not move away.

“You kept your promise,” he told Felix, trying to break the strange mood they were in. He remembered rather keenly that the last time they had stood here he had made Felix cry. “You stayed by my side, and you see me for what I am,” and if that did not get rid of any humor Dimitri himself had been feeling, “for better or worse.”

“I did, didn’t I?” But Felix did not sound amused or nostalgic, instead, there was a tiredness to his voice that sent chills down Dimitri’s spine. “For how much longer I wonder?”

What did he mean by that? Was it about soulmates again? Was it something that Felix's clue told him? 

“Felix?” his disquiet must have been obvious in his voice, because Felix turned to face him fully, taking a step away so that their shoulders were only almost touching. 

“Dimitri…” the use of his name startled him, and he found himself pinned under Felix’s gaze as his friend uncharacteristically met his gaze evenly and did not look away. “I—” but Felix trailed off, his eyes searching Dimitri’s face, for something, what Dimitri did not know. When Felix spoke again, Dimitri could not shake the feeling that he was not saying what he had originally intended too. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“...So you did.”

Do you regret it? The question was at the tip of Dimitri’s tongue, but he could not bring himself to ask. “Thank you.” He said instead. 

Felix hummed and they stood in silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder. The heaviness and uncertainty weren’t quite gone, but Dimitri felt contentedness settle over him in the quiet companionship. Then the wind shifted and the so far almost inaudible sound of the ball got louder. A thought that Felix would probably not appreciate crossed Dimitri’s mind and refused to leave. 

Dimitri leaned sideways, pressing his shoulder more firmly against his friend’s and gaining Felix’s attention. The height difference between them was enough that Felix had to tilt his head back slightly if Dimitri did not lean down, and the movement bared the elegant line of his throat.

“Felix,” he said, lips curling into a grin, “Dance with me?”

To his amusement, the exact moment Felix registered what he was asking, was easy to spot. Slim eyebrows rose in surprise, the furrow between them disappearing for a moment. Sharp eyes widening and a flush rising on pale cheeks. Dimitri’s own grin got wider.

Felix leaned closer to him in annoyance, their noses almost touching and he pushed his finger into Dimitri’s dress uniform imperiously. Annoyance and exasperation clear in his voice as he started to speak.

“Honestly, what is it with you and dancing?” a poke, “I thought you stopped that years ago!” Another poke, “Why do you keep asking me to dance with you?”

Felix made to poke his chest again, but Dimitri raised his own hand and captured long fingers between his own. Felix did not struggle, but his annoyance remained, the puffs of his breath ghosting across Dimitri’s face.

“For the same reason that I asked you to open the ball with me,” Dimitri informed him, humor curling his lips even further at Felix’s demeanor and probably making him look ridiculous. “Because I want to.”

For reasons Dimitri could not discern that wasn’t the answer, Felix had expected. Amber eyes went wide as he stared at Dimitri. 

“You…” Felix muttered. Then he shook his head and took a step back. “Unbelievable.”

Dimitri wasn’t keen on the sudden distance between them, but he still had Felix’s hand in his own, and his friend made no move to pull away. 

“Alright,” Felix said. “A dance.” He shot Dimitri a sharp look. “But only one. And I will lead.”

Delighted that Felix had actually agreed, Dimitri found himself agreeing readily. It wasn’t as if he minded Felix leading. Though, it made things a bit awkward as they got into position. 

Dimitri hesitated for a moment before putting his hand into Felix’s own. He glanced down at his gauntletted hands and carefully pulled them off, setting them aside on the floor. Felix watched him, face unreadable, though he did not hesitate to curl his fingers around Dimitri’s when Dimitri reached for him again. With the slightest tug, Felix pulled Dimitri closer and placed his other hand on his hip, while Dimitri’s own settled on Felix’s shoulder. Felix waited for a heartbeat, listening to the music, before he moved, taking Dimitri along.

Felix led him through a classic box step. Following along with the music that rang out from the reception hall, they turned, less then they had in the great hall. It was nice Dimitri though as he followed the gentle directions of Felix’s hands. He did not need to pay as much attention to his feet, and he did not need to force a smile, because at this moment his smile was entirely genuine. The sound of their steps, Dimitri’s own far louder than Felix’s, mingled with the sound of the music. Dimitri found himself relaxing further when he realized that Felix was quietly humming along. 

They danced until the song came to an end, and Felix lowered the hand with which he was still holding Dimitri’s own. He did not step back, and Dimitri found himself smiling down at him, while Felix looked at Dimitri’s nose.

“Thank you for the dance,” Dimitri said quietly and Felix hummed.

They stepped apart and Dimitri immediately missed the closeness, though his hand remained in Felix’s own. 

“Shouldn’t you return to the ball?” Felix asked him, his gaze directed away from Dimitri again. Dimitri did not move or answer, and instead looked down at their still interlinked hands. When he returned to Fhirdiad, the distance that had been between him and Felix since the rebellion—since Duscur really—would likely return. He had enjoyed the closeness with his friends in the monastery, he realized. For all that Dimitri had come here for other reasons than the ones Rodrigue had wished for him, Rodrigue had turned out right in the end. 

This was the last time he had been relatively free from responsibilities. 

Soon, Dimitri would be king. 

“Boar?” 

Dimitri stepped closer to Felix, then he leaned forward until his forehead landed on the other’s shoulder. 

“Felix,” he found himself asking, “Do you think I can be a good king?”

He felt Felix tense against him, felt him take a deep breath. “What brought this on?”

Dimitri hummed. “I have been thinking… Once we return home, it is only a matter of time until I am crowned.”

The word tasted heavy, like a weight, not only a crown on his head, and a mantle on his back, but like heavy stones poured into his bones. 

“That’s not new.”

“No,” he agreed. “But…” 

But it seems so much more immediate now. It had been bad in the capital when he had to listen to reports about bandits terrorizing villagers, food shortages, and unable to do anything while his uncle did nothing, or just enough to look like he was doing something. Living with the kingdom on the edge of disaster. For years Dimitri had wanted to do something. 

He had goals; revenge for the dead, justice for the people of Duscur, and stability for his kingdom, if he lived long enough, but it was plans he lacked. 

“I have been thinking,” he confessed against Felix’s throat, glad for his presence and glad that he did not have to look into the too keen eyes. “About what I will do after I’m... crowned.”

Felix hummed, the hand that’s not still intertwined with Dimitri’s own coming up to press against Dimitri’s side, where it had rested when they danced. 

“I… With those people, the mages…  _ Solon _ .” he spat, but Felix did not flinch, only pinched him slightly. “I will have to find out where they come from. They have been operating in the kingdom. The mess with Lord Lonato…” and that had been both headache and heartache, “proved it.”

He felt Felix nod. “... My old man said there are fractions in the capital.” Dimitri had feared it, but he hadn’t known for sure. He nodded into Felix’s neck. “They also moved in the empire.” Remire hung between them like a dark cloud. Felix did not move away, and Dimitri let out a shuddering breath.

“I plan on talking to Claude and Edelgard. They already acted in the kingdom and the empire, they have probably moved into the alliance as well… maybe if we work together we can do something about them. They are a threat to all of us after all.”

Maybe one of them would have a plan. A plan that would allow him to walk a path that did not require him to throw away all that he had left. Dimitri had goals, priorities, but lower priorities were priorities still. Surely the ghosts would not begrudge him this.

They are silent for now, as they haven’t been since Remire. 

Felix hummed. “Is that your plan then? To work together with them to take down your enemies?”

Dimitri nodded, and Felix hummed a laugh against his shoulder. “It does sound like something a king should do.”

“Good.” Dimitri murmured, “I want to be a good king.” I want to be a good prince, he had said all those years ago.

Suddenly, the hand that had been at his side, moved up, pressing against the center of his chest, and gently, but firmly pushed him away. Reluctantly, Dimitri went, his gaze drawn to his friend.

Felix looked at him, gaze intent, and searching. Eventually, he nodded. “All right,” he said and there was a finality to his tone Dimitri did not understand. At the same time, he looked a little sad. Sad, but proud. 

He did not take his other hand from Dimitri’s hold, Dimitri squeezed in gently. 

“Do you think I can do it?” he found himself repeating.

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know. But... you are Dimitri.” I want to be Dimitri, too, he had said. “I’ll stick with you until then.” I want Felix to stay by my side, he had said. 

“Until then?” Dimitri asked.

“Yes. Until you no longer need me.”

Dimitri hesitated. “You—, I—, I want you to stay, but if you don’t want to… you don’t need to.”

Felix looked exasperated. “I know that. What do you take me for? An Idiot? I want to see this through to the end as well. I want the people who were behind Duscur to pay.” He looked at Dimitri again, made a face as if remembering something uncomfortable. “I just don’t want you to pay the price.”

Dimitri smiled, a little wry. “Neither do I.” But want and need were rarely the same things.

“Is that a promise?” Felix asked. Dimitri hesitated, thought of the ghosts and their demands for vengeance, the task laid before him, and what price he might have to pay. 

“A hope...“ he answered, “...A wish.”

Something in Felix’s expression changed, and he looked away. “Well, I suppose that will have to do.”

Felix’s eyes wandered upwards, fixed on the Blue Sea Star, he smiled then nodded decisively. “Let’s make that our wish then.”

“What?” Dimitri blinked, taken aback. 

“We are here at the Night of the ball, we might as well make a wish.”

Dimitri laughed. “I thought you do not believe in those wishes?” Felix simply looked at him, waiting, and refused to answer. 

“Alright,” Dimitri conceded. “I shall wish for that…” he let his gaze wander over the sky, ”Justice for people… so that they no longer get torn from our sides…” And for Felix and all his friends to stay… just a bit longer. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Of course, his dreams and plans for the future were not to be. 

The flame emperor was a blight upon Fodlan, and  _ she  _ had to die, the dead demanded it. Wishes and hopes and dreams went up in smoke along with the academy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: This chapter gets pretty dark, it's during the timeskip and from Dimitri's POV. There are hallucinations, graphic violence, a panic attack and a self-harm attempt. Please take care of yourself!

They had been preparing for the attack since Edelgard’s flight from the monastery. Yet, nothing they could have done would have been enough to prepare them for the massive army approaching. It was obvious that Edelgard had prepared herself very well. 

Soldiers upon soldiers march through the town, massacring the innocents and burning their homes. Dimitri gritted his teeth as he watched them make their way towards the monastery. They had repelled part of their forces, but it seemed like for every soldier he killed at least two others rose to take his place.

A group of imperial maggots ran towards him, axes raised in a feeble attempt to take him down, Dimitri snorted and spun his lance against one man’s neck. He heard it break on impact, but the momentum of his strike did not falter. The man behind them went down with a gurgle as the tip of Dimitri’s lance tore open his throat.

More and more soldiers arrived. 

It was laughable, they would never be enough to kill him. Their corpses would pave the way to their damned emperor, and then Dimitri would finally remove her head from her body. 

The rage inside of him burned brighter and brighter. He crossed the distance between himself and another imperial soldier without conscious thought. Somewhere behind him, Felix screamed his name, but Felix could wait. Dimitri had enemies to kill. 

Eventually, though, even Dimitri was forced back. Dedue rejoined him, Sylvain, on horseback on his heels, the lance of Ruin crackling with ominous light as he carved a path for them to escape. Ingrid joined them soon after, Ashe clinging to her back. Mercedes and Annette found them as they made their way through the ruins of the town. 

Edelgard had retreated. Fled like a rat, but no matter where she scurried off to, Dimitri would find her. He would kill her. Wrap his hands around her throat until she gasped for air like a fish on land. Then he would wrench it up, and off, like the cork from a bottle.

Dimitri smiled. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Being back in Fhirdiad felt a lot like standing two steps next to himself. Despite the fall of Garreg Mach, despite the blood all but boiling in Dimitri’s veins, the city seemed unchanged. People were walking to the market and as his party passed by they made way and waved, he forced himself to give them a smile.

Maybe the news of the war had not yet tickled through to the general populace. It would not take much longer.

His uncle was waiting for him in the courtyard, for once dressed as befitting his station, and accompanied by other important court members, and from his face, at least, Dimitri was sure that Rufus knew what had happened.

“Prince Dimitri, welcome back. I had hoped that your return would be under a more favorable star.”

The stablehands rushed to take his horse, and Dimitri made his way over to Rufus with quick strides.

“Uncle.”

Grey eyes, so different from his father, yet so alike in that moment, wandered over his face. Before his uncle’s lips tightened and he gave a sharp nod. 

“I would appreciate it if you could inform me about the particulars of the attack.” Rufus continued, and the courtiers behind them started to mutter among themselves, nervous energy rising from them, Dimitri gritted his teeth. “In private,” Rufus added, silencing the muttering that got more insistent with a sharp look.

With a nod, Dimitri agreed and followed his uncle. He had no time to pander to the courtiers now. The Kingdom needed to prepare for war. Edelgard needed to die.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

They came for him in the night. Dimitri woke up to a servant stumbling into his room. Maria was a familiar face who had served his family for as long as Dimitri could remember, but she did not work in the royal apartments, but the kitchen and dining hall. The moment she stumbled into his room, wild-eyed and panting, he knew something was wrong.

“Your highness.” she all but shouted, “Your highness you have to get out!” She gazed behind herself as if expecting someone to follow her. Dimitri got out of his bed and grabbed his lance. 

“Maria, what happened?”

“Lord Rufus is dead.” she said, “Lady Cornelia wants to arrest you! She said you did it!”

Dimitri’s breathing stopped for a second. “What?”

When he had left his uncle, Rufus had been alive. They had fought, loudly, but no one had come to harm. 

“Your Highness, you need to—” but Maria did not finish. The door was slammed open behind her and the guards stomped into the room. They were heavily armed and grim-faced. Dimitri recognized the man that led them. Ser Raymond was a knight who had served the royal family even before Duscur. He had been among those who had stood guard over Dimitri after the tragedy. 

“Your Highness, on the authority of Lady Cornelia we are here to take you into custody.” 

Dimitri studied them, taking in their weapons, and their ever-increasing number. His chance of fighting his way out of the room was decreasing rapidly. 

“On what grounds?”

Ser Raymond’s eyes flickered to Maria, and a look of distaste flashed across his face. 

“His grace, the grand duke, has been murdered, Lady Cornelia wishes to ascertain what you know.”

Dimitri hummed and gripped his lance tighter.

“This does not look like she is interested in asking questions. In fact, it seems like she is quite sure what she wants to happen. I have not seen my uncle since we parted before dinner. Did the grand duke attend dinner?”

Some of the guards behind Ser Raymond fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Further,” Dimitri added, “I do not believe that Cornelia has the authority to arrest me, because this what this is, isn’t it, Ser Raymond?”

One of the knights looked around his fellows, his lance lowered, and the other also seemed more unsure. Dimitri allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

“I will of course consent to house arrest in my room until the duke Fraldarius—the only man who currently has the authority to detain me, if my uncle is truly dead—can arrive and Fhirdiad to oversee the investigation.”

Despite his men’s hesitance, Ser Raymond remained unmoved. 

“Your Highness, please do not make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Dimitri smiled coldly.

“Ser Raymond, what does Cornelia think she can order the knights of the holy kingdom of Faerghus to do?”

In the end, it did not matter. Though some of the knights argued against it, Dimitri found himself dragged into the throne room where Cornelia was waiting for him. Maria was dragged along with him as well. Luckily, she was in the custody of one of the knights who had been swayed by Dimitri’s words.

Cornelia welcomed them standing in front of the throne. Dimitri felt a shiver at disgust crawl through him as he took in the sight. She was dressed and ready as if attending a full court, however, it was easy to see that the only people in attendance right now were those who often supported Cornelia’s interests. 

In the end, Dimitri made it out of the throne room alive and was thrown into the dungeon. Maria, and those guards who objected when Cornelia had him slapped into chains without a trial, found themselves dead on the floor. Their blood straining the royal blue carpet.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

They didn’t feed him much, he was only provided some water and coupled with the injuries he had received during the struggle in the throne room, Dimitri found himself slipping in and out of consciousness for a few days. Some of the guards that Cornelia assigned to him were kind and tried to take care of him, he never saw any of them twice.

His mind wandered, the voices of the ghosts louder than they had ever before. He picked up some snatches of rumors from the talk between his jailors: Cornelia’s dealings with the empire (His blood boiled and his rage burned hotter and hotter. _Edelgard_. He would have her head.) and the resistance in the north of the kingdom form Fraldarius and their ilk. They spoke about how fighting had broken out. Talked about skirmishes along the border, and the duke’s troops assembling. 

Sometimes, his classmates joined his ghosts. Dedue, killed in the castle. Ingrid. Shot from the sky. Sylvain, dead in fighting with Streng, or Cornelia or—

Annette. Ashe. Mercedes. Dead and dead and dead.

Felix. 

Felix came to him most of all. 

And Felix alone did not beg Dimitri to avenge him. He begged Dimitri to drink. To eat his food. To use what little skill in faith magic he had to treat his wounds. He talked to him when his fever spiked. Cradled Dimitri’s face between his hands and did not avoid his gaze. Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri he called him, cutting off all other demands for vengeance and retribution and the blood of his enemies.

Felix told him he would live. 

One day, Felix told him to get up. To gather himself. To be prepared. Then, Felix was gone.

It was Dedue that came for him. 

Dedue, whom he was forced to leave to die. 

Dedue, another ghost that followed him.

Dedue, who did not demand vengeance, but told him that through Dimitri he would see his vengeance done. Not a demand, but surety. 

Dimitri would not disappoint him.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

He did not know how long he had been running. Somehow, he made it out of the castle. There had been people trying to stop him. He remembered the feeling of slamming a head against the wall and feeling the skull give. His enemies had been kingdom soldiers. 

His soldiers. 

Cornelia’s soldiers. 

Dedue had come for him. 

Dedue was dead. 

Dimitri had left him behind.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he made his way out through one of the servant entrances of the castle. How many hours did he spend wandering the city? When did he get out? 

By the time he left the city behind, the light of the early morning sun was already shining on him. He gazed at it crawling up the horizon and remembered the sun setting on Garreg Mach when _she_ had attacked. Dimitri turned away from it and then westwards, towards Enbarr. He knew where he needed to go to get his vengeance. 

Around him the dead cheered, roaring for the blood and death of those that killed them, and he moved on. The chanting for blood and the wails of the dead were all he heard. A drumbeat of war, drowning out even the sound of his own breath and heartbeat. 

He could not cross the Tailean plains directly, he needed to take a more circumspect route. It would not do for him to be caught again by Cornelia’s henchmen. He moved southwest, aiming to cross through the forests at the foot of the Oghmar mountains. _She_ would not have left the monastery undefended; it was a monument of her craven and ill-gotten victory.

His steps carried him further and further until the hilly fields surrounding Fhirdiad turned into a more forested area. In a clearing, he killed some bandits. They had been stalking him like prey as he made his way through the forest. He showed them that he wasn’t prey. 

Once, twice, thrice, soldiers caught up with him. Their uniforms were red, sometimes blue. They commanded him in the name of Lady Cornelia if they bothered to talk to him at all. He killed them. Killed them and took their weapons, their supplies, and their armor, before he marched on. 

In the forest he fought a group of imperial scouts, one of them screamed when he saw him, shouting about ghosts and the vengeance of the dead. He was right, the dead wanted vengeance. They shouted, and laughed and cheered when he killed the soldiers, ripped their limbs from their torsos, and crushed their bones with his bare hands. Dimitri laughed along with them. 

Days faded to weeks, and weeks to months. Time passed, and what remained of Dimitri faded away drop by drop with each enemy head he crushed. The prince had been left behind in the dungeon of Fhirdiad. And even the (Felix’s) boar was too alive a thing to be a fitting name for him. 

He was an emissary of the dead. The instrument of their vengeance. 

He chased imperial rats through the forest, set their camps on fire, and laughed as they died screaming. Sometimes it snowed. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes the smell of rotting flesh lingered in his nostrils as the sun rose and fell. 

He tried not to rest because when he rested the ghosts got agitated, and their demands rose and rose and rose until he could hear nothing else. Individual voices struck out. One week, he heard about an incursion from Sreng, and Sylvain laughed as Dimitri slammed a man’s skull against a tree with enough force to crack both the tree and the skull. He stumbled across the charred corpses of a group of Pegasi and their knights and from the corner of his eye he could see Ingrid marching next to him. Dedue rarely spoke, but his presence, whenever it came to him, was a silent reminder to carry on. 

In battle, he thought he glimpsed Ashe’s dead body lying in the snow. Annette’s hair was the same as the cleric’s whom he shoved down a bridge. A mage screamed, her voice sounding like Mercedes’s. 

In battle, he would hear sharp commands _(Duck!), (Behind you!)_ , but that was impossible. Yet sometimes, he would feel his breath stutter, and his heart stop. Sometimes, Felix, too, joined his ghosts, but he knew that he could not be because Felix was alive, Felix had to be alive. 

Sometimes, after he had eliminated a great number of enemies, the voices were almost kind. His father did not command him to carry on, instead, he gave him a sharp nod, his stepmother hummed the old battle hymns, and Glenn told him where he had made mistakes. 

There was another voice ringing in his head. This voice did not care if the king was speaking when it wanted to be heard, it cut through the dull roar of the voices.

He almost feared that voice. No matter how many enemies he slew, how quick he moved, how efficient he was, he never managed to please it. It was sharp with him, ceaselessly reminding him of his limitations. He needed to eat. To drink. To rest. The reminders made his skin crawl and made him want to curl up in shame.

It was especially sharp when he was forced to pass through villages, to pick up rations as the voice demanded he eat. It told him to stop growling, to wash his hands clean before he stepped among civilized people. In the towns, he learned that the prince was dead. 

Executed. Killed. Gone.

Maybe he was. 

As time passed, the packs of imperial rats became more common, and larger. They moved through kingdom villages like they owned them. Jeering at the cowed people and tearing down old and well-loved banners. In one village he killed them all, and the people ran away from him screaming and shouting and crying. Their voices of terror mixing with the ones of the ghosts urging him on. The cacophony of noise made him shake, made him uncomfortable, but there was no getting away from it. He left the village, but the ghosts followed louder than ever before.

He stumbled through the forest heedless of the direction. Sometimes he imagined a hand at the small of his back, gently, gently urging him on. The ghosts screamed and railed. 

Was he going in the wrong direction?

His father told him to turn around and punish the imperial collaborators, his stepmother preached of fire and flame, Glenn cursed him as a failure. That voice, the one that made him feel small and helpless and weak, urged him to put a distance between himself and the people from the village. The voice sounded tight and tired, but it reminded him to scavenge the ration of the dead imperials. He did. 

After that, the voice instructed him to get to a steam close to the village and clean his wounds and apply the healing items he had gotten. The other ghosts roared around him, but the voice remained steady and calm, cutting through their demands like a sharp sword. 

He followed the instructions, startled by the number of his wounds. His mind was spinning and he felt sick, the demands of the dead merged into a singular roar, so overwhelming he could not make out individual demands. 

It scared him. He struggled to his feet. Feeling lost, but knowing that none of them would be against their march on Enbarr to acquire _her_ head. Except there was.

 _(You won’t even make it through the mountain like this.)_ It mocked him. _(Walking on all fours is not going to help you.)_ It scolded. 

_(You need to rest.)_ He needed the emperor's head. Her blood on his hands. Her corpse at his feet. “She needs to die.”

_Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!_

“I will.”

_(Maybe, but not if you die before the night is out.)_

The voice didn't sound happy, and it would not relent. Screaming and shouting him down. Louder, and louder and louder than even the dead had ever managed to be.

Cowed and weak and helpless he complied. 

The sun rose, the sun sank, the sun rose. The voice got quieter, more muffled and he could finally hear the dead again. And he moved on. West, towards Enbarr. Towards vengeance. 

He still hadn't recovered. His legs felt heavy, each step a struggle, but none of his pain even came close to the torment of the dead. He would push on. He would kill every imperial rat he came across. _(Fool.)_

So he did.

He hunted them like a cat hunted rats. _(Aren’t you supposed to be a lion?)_ Hunted them and sent them running. Hunted them even as they realized it. Hunted them as they made plans and plots like the vermin they were sneaking and squeaking and dying. Hunted them until he was overwhelmed. Until they hunted him. Surrounded him. 

He hated them. _(To your left!)_

If he could not hunt them, he would slaughter them. He waded into the battle with hesitation. The rats scurried back. They had expected him to falter.

“Fools.” _(As if you aren’t.)_

Some of the soldiers stormed towards him. He pierced one of them with his lance and shoved it through the vermin's body, before sweeping the lance sideway, slamming the corpses into the soldier next to him. Blood sprayed as he ripped his lance free. A choked off scream. His lips curled into a smile. A woman in gleaming armor stumbled away from him. He caught up to her in two quick strides. She turned. His hands landed on the back of her armor and slammed her down. Metal scratched and dented. She wailed, choked, and died. 

It was music to his ears. Another soldier came up behind him, but he too died easily. It was amusing truly, how easy they were to smash. 

He laughed. _(What are you doing? Pay attention!)_

The magic that nicked his shoulder took him by surprise. Ripped a growl of fury and pain from him. He bared his teeth, ripped a lance from the arms of a man bleeding out in front of him and there. His arm shook, but his aim was true. Blood and brain matter splattered. A head bust like an egg.

”Pathetic.”

A whimper. He kicked, the man’s head snapped back with a crack and he slumped back.

“Laughable.”

_(It really isn’t.)_

The mages, if they had sufficient backup, were always the biggest hindrance. Like Vestra had been that day in the holy tomb. If not for him he would have had his vengeance. Would have spilled the flame emperor’s blood on the floor. 

The mages were a problem. There were a lot of mages in this group. They died when he got to them but they were tricky. Like vermin. Like rats. Like roaches.

And one of them was directing them. He could hear the orders barked over the battlefield. How to move, where to go and— 

“This beast is an enemy of our Emperor! Kill him!”

He would not give them the satisfaction. They died, one after another, and with every hit he took, his rage grew. Red tinted his vision and his hands were slick with blood. The commander tried to flee. He threw his lance and pierced the mage attempting to cast the warp spell. They would not escape.

He approached, stalked towards them. This man, a commander, would tell him about the emperor. 

His cheeks strained under the widths of his smile. Satisfaction and bloodlust cured through him.

_(What are you going to do?)_

“Answer, answer. Where is she? Where is she?”

The mage shivered as he approached, shivered and grasped his dagger and—

He laughed. As if that dagger would be enough to hurt him. Only the dagger was not meant for him, and he would not get his answers. 

The dagger pierced in the mage’s own flesh, cut his throat open to the bone. Blood sprayed through the air, splattered on his face and on the ground.

He screamed in his rage. Lunged towards the man. He was dead. He shook him. Wrapped his hands around his throat and squeezed. _(Stop! What are you doing!)_

Blood squirted between his fingers, bones crumbled but there were no answers.

He lurched to his feet, away from the mage, as horror and rage and fear and despair ripped through him. The mage was dead. His lead was gone. He shouted his anger to the skies, but the dead were louder. 

He had failed them. The death roared and raged and he stumbled from the clearing, leaving the bodies of the dead imperial soldiers behind. He had failed. He had failed. He had failed. 

If he had been just a bit faster, he could have stopped the man from killing himself. If he had been just a bit faster, he could have killed the man. Asked him where the emperor was. Where she was going. He could have hunted Edelgard down, wrenched her head from her neck, and felt her warm blood on his skin.

The dead could have finally been at peace. 

_You are supposed to give us our vengeance_ , his father roared, _yet all you do is fail._

 _Give us peace!_ His stepmother wailed, _Years and years and years without end!_

He had tried. He had. 

Glenn laughed mockingly, _A failure through and through._

The other ghosts roared their agreement. One voice called for him, among them, but he couldn't bring himself to face them, shame and self-hatred burned through him. _(Stop. Stop. Stop!)_ The failure turned away from them, stumbling over a prodding root. His body hurt. _(Your eye!)_ His arms felt heavy and shook when he tried to use them to catch itself against a tree. That too was a failure, and he fell face-first into the ground. 

For a moment he breathed. The grass was cool against his cheek, but soon after it turned slippery and warm with blood. He struggled upwards, the ghosts roaring again, urging him onto his feet, telling him to get them vengeance. Towards Enbarr. _(Stay down. Oh, goddess. Stay down.)_

His arms managed to get him into a sitting position, and he rammed his fingers into the tree-like claws, using them to pull himself upwards. _(What are you doing?)_

It worked. At this, he did not fail. A savage smile made its way onto his face. A beast baring its fangs. He was on his feet again. He could continue his work.

There were always more imperial rats to kill. 

He took a step and red flooded his vision.

Rage rushed through him and he looked around, nostrils flaring. His knees threatened to give, but the fury, the betrayal kept him standing. 

“How?” he growled. How had they managed to plan a spy? It must have been the mages' fault. Cornelia. “Yes, Yes. She could have done something like this.”

_(Done what?)_

Cornelia, too, needed to die. Dedue wanted her dead. If not for her, he could have gotten vengeance on his own. Could have had the satisfaction of feeling the blood of his enemies on his hands. 

It was fine. “Fine. I will do it instead.”

Edelgard and her ilk needed to die. He would have their heads, The dead demanded, required, needed it. 

But first— “The spy.”

 _A spy!_ His stepmother screeched, her red skirts flaring around her. _A spy!_

“Yes.” Dimitri agreed. “A spy. I will kill it.” A spy could not be tolerated. He raised his hand towards his face. _(What are you doing now?)_ His gauntlets were dirty, covered in mud and guts and brain matter. The spy would join them soon.

“It allows them to see.”

Red. Red. Red. In his vision. Tainting everything. He wanted, needed it gone.

 _It does. It does. It does._ The voices of the dead agreed. _Eliminate it,_ they begged. _Kill it_ , they pleaded. _Squash it like a bug!_ they commanded.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He would. 

_(What are you—?)_

_Get rid of it! Get rid of it!_

“I will.”

And he reached for the left side of his face, dragged his fingers for the red streaming down his cheeks. The claws of his gauntlets scratched his skin.

 _(Boar!)_ Beast. Animal. Corpse. Yes, he was. An instrument for vengeance. This needed to be done. 

Surprisingly, it hurt. 

“El.”

He reached, but his own body betrayed him. Instead of getting rid of the device of the emperor, the claws dragged through his own skin, carving deep grooves into his flesh.

_(Stop it!)_

He tried to move his hand up again, but something dragged them down. Was it another trick of the emperor?

He snarled. Growled. Bared his teeth. He would kill them!

 _Failure!_ The ghosts shrieked. _Failure!_

But he wouldn’t fail. No. No. 

“No. I will. I have—”

_(Stop it! Dimitri!)_

_Kill it. Kill it. Kill it. The emperor’s spy. Kill it!_

He forced the hand on upwards. The emperor’s influence was strong. Like rot, but he was stronger. 

“I won’t be beaten by the emperor’s dogs!” he roared, wrenching his arm up with all his might, his crest flared.

_House Blaiddyd will have its vengeance!_

The weight fell from him and he laughed in savage delight. His legs barely supported him, but they had not betrayed him yet. He leaned against the tree and raised his hand again. Nothing would stop him from getting rid of the emperor’s influence. The finger’s neared the right sight of his face, where the imperial infestation lingered. He would get rid of it. He would tear it out he would—

_(DIMA!)_

He… stopped. 

Startled he whirled, losing his hold on the tree and fell to the ground. The impact hurt, but pain was a familiar companion. He turned to his side. “What?”

The ghosts roared again. _“Failure!”_

“I” won’t “Fail, I have to get rid of it!” he knew. He knew. He knew. His purpose. He knew. 

_(No.)_ |“No.”

Something grabbed his hands, and he turned, bared his teeth, fully prepared to use them, but—

“No, you won’t.” Sharp words, sharp features. It was—

“How?” 

A hand reached towards his face, towards the investigation and he leaned back. Those hands should not touch it. 

“The infestation,” he warned, wailed, screamed. He was ignored. 

He felt a touch, almost there. Almost. Almost. On his cheek. On his brow. Over the infestation/the spy (his eye).

Skin dragging on skin. 

The red was gone. Wiped away.

“It’s gone.”

The voice said, sounding tight and controlled. He blinked still looking at the hand that took up almost all of his vision. 

“Dimitri.”

He— 

The hand lowered, still wrapped around his hand and he—he, Dimitri, came face to face with—

A man with dark hair and tired amber eyes, dressed in warm winter clothing and it was—

“You?”

Felix (?) laughed, it came out like half a sob. “Do I finally have your attention?”

He—Dimitri—looked down at their hand. Felix’s hands, and his own dirty with blood.

“How…” Dimitri mumbled. But Felix couldn’t be here. There were imperial soldiers everywhere. 

“Dimitri.”

His eyes snapped up, and he felt something warm drip down his face. Blood. From the wound he had gotten in the fight? His face hurt. 

“How? You can’t be here. You are—” Felix should be in Fraldarius. With Rodrigue. Not— “You aren’t, you—”

The hand left his own, and he felt a keen sense of loss at the sight, but instead, Felix raised both hands to his face. Slim fingers dragged along his cheekbones, framing his face.

“Dima.”

Dimitri breathed. In, and when he breathed out, it sounded like a sob. “Felix.”

It was Felix. It was Felix. 

“Felix, you found me.”

Had he been lost?

“Felix, you are here.”

Felix was here. Felix was with him. Felix was still there. At his side. He had promised. Dimitri took a shuddering breath. Eyes fixed on Felix’s own. Felix did not look away.

“You are here.”

“Yes,” Felix's voice was half a sob “I’m here.”

There were tears in Felix’s eyes. It had once been a familiar sight. But not anymore. Not when the eyes were so sharp, narrower than the sweet gaze of a child. The tears glittering in them still looked the same.

Dimitri raised his hand slowly. The blood dripping from the clawed fingers of his gauntlet shouldn’t be there. He shouldn't reach for Felix like this. Felix would—

Felix did not lean away from his touch. Dimitri’s hands hovered in front of his friend’s face, but he could not bring himself to overcome the last bit of distance.

He let his hands fall back into his lap and instead leaned into Felix’s own hands still framing his face. Pleasure, a feeling that was so foreign to him, it almost brought him to tears, coursed through him. He arched further in the touch, thought the feeling of another person touching him was almost painful. His skin felt tight. 

Then Felix leaned closer as well, resting his forehead against Dimitri’s own, and he could see himself reflected in the dark of his eyes. 

“You have a fever,” Felix told him, his voice almost inaudible, yet unmistakable. Dimitri hummed, and Felix's finger caressed his cheek. “Dimitri.”

He snapped his eyes open, unsure when he had closed them. The right side of his face erupted in pain making him want to reel back, but that would mean getting away from Felix. Dimitri could not bring himself to do that. 

Lost in thought as he was he did not hear what Felix had told him. Felix's lips pressed tightly together for a moment, forming a thin line. “Dimitri. You need to get out of the rain.”

Was it raining? 

Yes, he realized, it was, and Felix was drenched as well. Dimitri struggled to his feet, the process made awkward by the fact that he did not want to create distance between himself and Felix. Thankfully, Felix rose with him, his hands wandered from Dimitri’s face to his shoulder and Dimitri immediately missed the touch on his face. Still, they had been closer when they were on the ground. Dimitri leaned in again, stumbling as one of his legs refused to carry his weight. Almost sending him back to the ground, Felix managed to catch him. Dimitri sagged into his friend's arms, his face pressed into the soft fur collar of Felix's jacket. Dimitri breathed in and out.

For a moment they did not move, and simply stood together in the rain, with Dimitri half hanging off Felix. Felix took a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. Dimitri could feel his chest expand, press harder against Dimitri’s own. 

“Come on,” Felix said, voice subdued, and arranged Dimitri’s arm around his shoulder instead, so he could use Felix as a crutch. Dimitri allowed it.

“There is an old lodge not too far from here.” Dimitri watched his face as he talked. Felix wasn’t looking at him, but at some point in the distance. There was a severe frown on his face, a furrow between his brows, and his lips were dry and chapped. The rain made his dark hair cling to his face, some single hairs clinging to his cheeks like spiderwebs. 

Felix started walking, Dimitri followed. He did not pay attention to where they were going and instead gazed at his friend. The rain fell around them. Dimitri could hear it splash against the leaves of the trees, a rushing sound. He could hear it splatter on the ground where the foliage wasn’t thick enough. He could hear and feel Felix's breath. The sounds of his own steps on the ground. Water ran down his face, and for a moment his right eye looked through a red film again. He tensed, blinked, and it was gone.

Blood.

The ghosts were silent. 

Felix maneuvered him through the woods, and the longer they walked the more difficult it became for Dimitri to not lean all his weight on Felix. He was hurting all over. How had he not noticed before? He stumbled, Felix paused, tightened his hold on his arm. Standing like this it was almost as if he was hugging Felix. He hadn’t done that since they were children. Dimitri let his head lol to the side, his cheek brushed Felix’s hair. He still smelled like the soap of Fraldarius. 

The next breath he took shuddered. His chest ached and his ribs burned. They were moving slower now, and Felix’s grip on him had tightened. Dimitri leaned even further into him and Felix grunted as he was forced to support more of his weight. 

Eventually, Felix tapped his arm. “Come on. You can sit down in a moment.”

There were still in the woods, an old hunter's lodge was in front of them. It was broken and rotten, with the remains of what could once have been a small stable fallen in on itself. Felix kicked open the door. The lock and angles were rusted and easily gave way. 

Dimitri let himself be dragged into the room. Their feed kicked up dust, but in this, at least the ramshackle nature of the lodge was to their fortune and the air was breathable enough. There was a pile of old straw in the corner of the room, but Felix took one look at it and dragged him away from it, instead setting him down against the wall some feet away from it. 

Dimitri slummed against it, but the change of posture sent another sharp spike of pain through him. He hissed, drawing the attention of Felix who had been looking through the room back to him.

Felix knelt down in front of him, and although his vision was spinning Dimitri met his gaze. In the dark room, he could barely make out the color of his eyes.

“The eye first,” Felix said sharply, the frown on his face starkly pronounced by the deep shadows. He reached towards Dimitri again, but Dimitri could not quite follow the movement, his vision swimming, and each blink sending a burning feeling across his face.

Felix’s fingers came to rest across his hurt eye. “Close it,” he instructed, and Dimitri complied. He had never been able to close one eye independently of the other, so he closed both.

The darkness was almost complete, only interrupted by the short flickers of color that danced behind his eyelids. He heard the rain on the roof. His heartbeat, his breathing. And Felix’s breathing. Trying to match it with his own was calming. 

Felix hummed. “What do you remember about faith magic?”

Nothing, but that was likely not the answer Felix was looking for. Instead, he simply shook his head a little, not enough to dislodge Felix’s hand from his face.

He heard Felix clicking his tongue in displeasure. The hand left his face. A whine sounded through the room, and only when Felix returned his hand, a bit too forceful and causing a slight spike of pain, did Dimitri realize that he had been the one to make the sound. 

Felix remained silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice sounding tight. “I need to pick out some healing items. For that, I need both of my hands.”

Hesitantly, Dimitri raised his own hand towards where he thought Felix was. His fingers met leather, and he grasped around until he got a hand full of the fabric of Felix’s jacket.

“Alright.” he croaked out and felt as Felix tensed. Then Felix’s hand moved away from his face again, slowly, as if he expected Dimitri to follow. He didn’t. Instead, he grasped the fabric in his hands tighter and considered opening his eyes. He did not like being alone in the dark. His arm was tucked to the left side as Felix leaned over him to reach for the scavenged supplies. There was a rusting sound and something tugged on his cloak as he ruffled through the contents. The position forced his arm into an awkward angle, putting uncomfortable pressure on his ribs, but it also pressed Felix's arm against his own, allowed him to feel the shift of muscles as he moved. 

At the edge of his hearing, Dimitri could make out the whispers of the dead. A shiver went through him and he jerked his arms closer.

Felix made a noise of surprise and in the next moment he was sprawled half over Dimitri’s lap as he lost his balance. Glass bottles clicked together, and something rolled away across the floor.

Against his chest plate, Felix made a frustrated sound, before he sat up again, still pressed against Dimitri, as Dimitri could not bring himself to let him go. One of Felix’s hands landed on his shoulder and applied pressure. Dimitri’s shoulder straightened, but it did not increase the distance between them.

“You—” An incoherent noise of frustration. “Boar! I need to—”

Dimitri flinched, curling in on himself, and Felix stopped speaking. Dimitri was shaking all over, and even if he had wanted to he could not have let Felix go. His fingers were almost convulsing, and the thought of letting go made him sick. _Boar, boar, boar. Failure. Beast._

A sight. “Dimitri.” the voices quietened, but nothing followed for a long moment. The hand on his shoulder wandered to his neck, fingers curling around the back of it, pressing the wet fur closer. “Dimitri, breath.”

He had heard that before. 

He took a shuddering breath and curled his arms tighter around Felix, who only grunted, and wiggled slightly to change his position, so that instead of awkwardly leaning against Dimitri’s chest plate he was now straddling his hips. Felix shifted, leaning to the side and slightly away from him, but Dimitri forced himself to stay calm. He knew Felix would not be able to get out of his grip if he did not let go. He would not be left alone in the dark.

Felix grunted, leaning against and over his arm, reaching for whatever he had been fiddling before. Dimitri did not care what it was, instead, he focused on the points of contact between him and Felix. It was better than the darkness. It was better than the whispers of the dead. It was better than the pain that was getting harder and harder to ignore. When was the last time he had touched another person outside of battle, without the intent to harm? Back in Fhirdiad when Dedue sacrificed himself so he could escape?

He took another breath, and it rattled painfully in his chest. A sound of pleasure came from Felix and he shifted again, closer to Dimitri, and then he felt as Felix strained his muscles slightly. The pop of a stopper being pulled from a bottle.

Felix removed his hand from Dimitri’s neck, but Dimitri followed. Felix's movement halted, Dimitri heard him take a deep breath. A pause then. “Hold still. I need both hands for this.”

Another attempt at breaking their contact, Dimitri tried, but he leaned in all the same. This time Felix did not attempt to hold back his sound of frustration. “You—” he gritted his teeth. “I need to take a look at the wound on your eye. You are still bleeding.”

Dimitri shook his head. “It’s fine.” he barely recognized his own voice, rough and gravely as it had never been before.

Felix laughed nastily, “No. It really isn’t.”

But when he moved again he did not remove his hand from Dimitri’s skin, Instead, he let it trail from his neck up over his cheek, and push back the hair from Dimitri’s face. 

The sound of pain that escaped him as the strands were pulled from the wound, was involuntary, but Felix froze. “It’s fine,” Dimitri repeated, an assurance that felt foreign on his tongue. There was no reaction, if not for the weight of Felix on him, and the sound of his breath in the air, he would think he was alone. Then Felix swallowed.

“Hold still.” but he sounded subdued, the frustration gone from his tone. His movements were careful and exceedingly gentle as if he was touching something fragile. Slowly, he peeled the rest of the hair from the wound, before pausing again.

“I will need to remove my hand now.” Dimitri tensed and made to protest, but Felix’s tights squeezed around his lap that he was still straddling. “It’s fine,” Felix assured him, but he did not move until Dimitri relaxed again. Only then did he slowly remove his hand from Dimitri’s face, his legs tightening around Dimitri’s hips as he did so. Dimitri breathed, and longed to open his eyes. The opposite of what Felix likely wanted him to do. 

He heard the sound of a thick liquid being poured, and then Felix leaned forward. Dimitri felt the shift of his hips and the way his body leaned towards him again within the circle of Dimitri’s arms. 

“This might be cold,” Felix warned him quietly. Dimitri breathed in. Breathed out. 

Felix's hand was on his face again, sticky with whatever healing items he had found among the imperial rations, he lathered it across Dimitri’s eye and the contact between it and his open wounds made him flinch slightly. It burned, but only for a moment, then the numbing agent kicked in and a tickling started. It worked fast. A concoction then. 

Dimitri had not realized how badly it had hurt until the pain started fading away. Unconsciously, he relaxed. Felix made a sound of pleasure. His face closer to Dimitri’s own then he had expected. “Good,” Felix mumbled, “it should heal without issue, though it will leave a scar.”

Dimitri had too many of those to be bothered by one more. Though this would be the first on his face. He simply shrugged. Unfortunately, now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel all of his wounds with renewed intensity. The small movement sent agony through his body and he groaned in pain.

Felix clicked his tongue and leaned towards the supplies again, whatever he was looking for was closer than the glass bottles because it was only a quick movement.

“Hold still.” He instructed, then he began to wrap a bandage around Dimitri’s head. Something soft but cold and wet, between it and his eye. “There,” Felix said a moment later, “Now you can look again. One eye only.”

Dimitri did. Felix’s face was close to his own. If he leaned forward just a bit their noses would be touching and Dimitri was almost tempted to do so, but Felix leaned back.

“Alright. Now let me take a look at the rest of your wounds.”

Reluctantly, Dimitri let him go, he felt almost cold when Felix climbed from his lap and pulled the cloak tighter around himself.

Felix made a frustrated noise, drawing his attention again. “I need to actually see you to check your wounds, Dimitri.”

Taking off the cloak and the armor was one of the hardest things Dimitri had done in a while. He faltered again and again and only carried on because Felix instructed him step by step. Goosebumps broke out all over his skin as the cold air hit it. Felix looked him over like a prospective buyer looked over a horse, and Dimitri hunched in on himself.

“Well,” Felix said, voice subdued. “It’s not as bad as it could be.” And then he set to treating Dimitri’s wounds. His chest, his arms, his hands even. His touch was so exceedingly gentle it was almost painful and Dimitri was torn between leaning into it and pulling away. Felix shoved vulnearies and connections at him and watched him drink them with keen eyes. He ran his hands along Dimitri's legs and his knees, checking for breaks. Fingers ghosted over his skin. 

Eventually, after Felix had finished his inspection, he let Dimitri put on his clothes again. Dimitri heard him mutter about how it could have been worse, and mumbling his thanks that some wounds healed right. He did not understand what Felix was speaking off. 

As Dimitri got dressed again, his movements awkward and careful, because even with the healing items working his ribs were still sore, Felix once more descended on the scavenged supplies. He pulled out a thin bedroll that he spread on the ground and unfolded some emergency blankets on top of it. Dimitri watched him, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room and waiting for the next instruction. Eventually, it came. 

“Lay down.”

Dimitri did not want to. He pulled up his shoulders defensively. “I can rest against the wall,” he said. Felix had only laid one place to sleep, he had done the work, so he should enjoy it. Dimitri didn’t know if he could still sleep while lying down on actual bedding. 

“Don’t be a fool.” Felix said sharply, “You broke your ribs, and if they heal wrong, you won’t be in fighting shape.”

Something stirred at the back of Dimitri’s mind, and he had bared his teeth before he could consider the action. He _needed_ to be in fighting shape, he couldn’t— 

Felix looked back at him unmoved by the show of aggression, but with dark satisfaction in his eyes. “Lie down.”

And so Dimitri did. The bedding was not as soft as he had feared, barely more than a blanket on the ground. As soon as he was horizontal Felix grabbed the blankets he had unfolded and threw them over him. Dimitri hesitated sitting up again. “Don’t you need one?” 

Felix looked at him for a long moment before he tore his gaze away. “There is more.” He settled down next to Dimitri, his back to the wall and then he put his hand on Dimitri’s chest and pressed him down. Dimitri went willingly. Felix was sitting close enough that if he turned his face to the side he could press it against the other man’s knee. 

“Sleep,” Felix instructed. “You need it.”

The urge to argue back rose up in Dimitri, but he could feel the heaviness already settled into his limbs. The consequences of long reaching exhaustion and the toll healing items took on his body, he knew. When was the last time he had truly slept? He didn’t remember. He looked at Felix. Sitting next to him, gaze fixed on the door that someone—was it Felix, was it him?—had put back into the frame again. Something about this situation was familiar. 

“You’ll stay?” he asked, voice small and almost inaudible. “You’ll still be here when I wake up?” Felix looked at him for a long moment, then his lips twisted into something that might have been meant to be a smile. Dimitri breathed slowly.

“Of course. You won’t get rid of me.” Felix said. A pause, then, almost bitterly. “I promise.” 

Dimitri nodded slowly, then carefully reached for the hand that was still resting on his chest. Felix's lips pressed together in a thin line, but he did not pull it away and instead readily interlinked their fingers. Dimitri breathed out. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

After Felix’s arrival, Dimitri started to feel more present. Feel more like Dimitri. The thought made him sick. He felt small and hunted and terrified. Sometimes Felix’s presence was a balm, sometimes it grated on him like nothing else could. 

The morning he woke up after Felix had found him was terrible, and it set the tone for what was to come. With the rise of the sun, the demands of the dead returned and Dimitri meant to fulfill them. 

Felix did not let him, reminded him of his wounds—his failure—and the futility of acting now. They shouted at each other. And Dimitri hated. He was weak, his own body had betrayed him. Once, Felix wrestled him to the ground, forcing him down. Dimitri had never lost a battle of pure strength before.

He howled his rage, screamed his demands. Felix remained immovable. Face pinched and eyes calm, he weathered Dimitri’s rage. Did not flinch from the jerking movements, did not step back when Dimitri leaned into his space. Did not react when he punched through the wall. Dimitri had sent hardened soldiers run in terror, (and hunted them down), but Felix treated the threat Dimitri knew he was, as a nuisance at best. 

Sometimes he even seemed darkly amused. Only once had Felix left, and the memory of it sent terror through Dimitri whenever he thought of it. He tried not to think of it.

Dimitri did not remember what he had said to kindle Felix's rage, but one moment he had been watching Dimitri placidly, the next his eyes had flared with rage. Dimitri expected him to strike back and use his sharp tongue to make Dimitri feel small, but instead, Felix turned around and left.

Dimitri watched him walk away, feeling smaller and more adrift then Felix’s most ruthless words could have made him feel. He scrambled to his feet and watched Felix’s back disappear from the room.

Suddenly, his own breathing was terribly loud in the empty room. Quicker and quicker it came. He started to sweat, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. Dimitri took a step in the direction Felix had left in, but the memory of Felix’s turned back haunted him. He gnawed on his lower lip until something warm dripped down his face. Spit or blood? 

Was he still breathing?

“Felix?” his voice sounded small, and he could barely make it out over the deafening sound of his heartbeat. “Felix?” he repeated, but he did not even know if he had spoken louder.

He started to shake.

 _Good._ Someone commented, and Dimitri turned. _He is better off washing his hands of you._

“Glenn?” A mocking laugh that echoed around them, taken up by the other ghosts. _Hahahaha!_ It went, _HAHAHAHA!_

Dimitri curled in on himself, but it wasn’t enough. The laughter continued.

_HAHAHAHAHA!_

He whimpered, fell to his knees, and covered his ears. It made no difference. 

“Felix.” he said, pleased, begged, shouted, “Felix!”

There was no answer, only laughter. Dimitri wanted to scream, but the scream got stuck in his throat. His fingers fisted in his hair and pulled, but there was nothing grounding in the pain. He dug his fingers further in, scratched his own face until blood welled up, if only because the feeling of warm blood was something.

Spots started dancing in his vision. Why?

His heartbeat got louder, pulsing in his ears, his heads, his scratches, and his fingers.

“Felix.” he managed to whimper. Suddenly, a hand on his back, gripping the back of his collar and yanking him backward. Dimitri fell back, landed on his back and Felix was on top of him.

“Breath!” he shouted, eyes wide with panic, and Dimitri reeled back as if slapped, banging his head against the ground. He breathed in and his lungs expanded. “Breathe!” He breathed out. In and out, in and out, as Felix commanded. Dimitri tried to speak, to plead for forgiveness for whatever he had said, he did not know anymore, but Felix’s refrain continued. In and out, in and out. They breathed in sync.

Eventually, Felix stopped talking, and Dimitri slowly sat up. “Felix,” he said, his voice small. “Felix.” and he reached for him, curving his shoulders, making himself smaller, on his knees and head lowered. “Felix, Felix, Felix.”

He crawled towards Felix, and the relief he felt when Felix did not push him away, but instead opened his arms, made his eyes burn. It almost made breathing easy.

Dimitri crawled into the opened arms. 

“You, you…” Felix shook his head, his face a grimace, he looked like he might cry. “What am I going to do?”

He said more after that, but Dimitri was no longer listening. He curled up on Felix’s lap, pressed his face desperately into his stomach. His grip must be painful, but Dimitri did not hear any complaints. Something warm dripped down his face into the fabric of Felix’s cloth. 

Felix’s fingers carded through his hair, soothing him. 

“You’ll stay?” he pleaded, Felix sighted, he sounded weary, but his hands were kind. “Yes. I promise.”

How many times did Felix promise him this? Dimitri would never be sure.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

It went on like this:

Imperial soldiers found him and Dimitri was enraged. They hunted him and he yearned to slaughter them. “How dare they?” he hissed, half to himself half to his father. _They are vermin!_ His father agreed. _Kill them._ He nodded his agreement. “I will.”

“You will what?” Felix snapped, walking behind him and carefully looking around. He had spotted their pursuers first, so Dimitri would forgive the tone.

“Kill them.” He informed Felix. “They manage to track us. Such dangerous skills are not allowed to remain on the empire’s side.”

Felix’s brows rose. “Dangerous skills?” He laughed mockingly. “Quiet!” Dimitri hissed at him, he was ignored. “You leave a path of carnage behind you. It takes no skill to follow that. They just need to be faster than you.”

Rage pulsed through Dimitri like a second heartbeat.

“Is that how you found me?” Dimitri snapped at him, half in worry, half in accusation. How dare Felix keep this information from him. Felix shook his head as if Dimitri was the unreasonable one.

“Ha! I wish. No, boar.” And despite himself, Dimitri flinched. He knew what he was, and boar was a kind description truly, but—

“My skill in finding you is a different one.” Felix did not sound happy about it.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Like this:

There were rumors of an attack on Fraldarius territory. They had overheard them when Dimitri had exchanged some of his collected weapons for provisions. According to the rumors, the duke had been wounded in battle. The ghosts paid no attention to the needs of the living. They only started to matter once they joined their ranks, or if they were enemies that needed to die. But Dimitri—

Dimitri turned away from the ghosts, from his stepmother's demands, Glenn’s declarations that his father would not want them to compromise their cause, and his own father’s insurance that Cornelia’s head would follow after the emperors, and looked at Felix.

Felix and his furrowed brow. Felix and the worry in his eyes and he—

Imperial soldiers moved into the village square before he could decide what he wanted to do. His rage rekindled as he watched a soldier push a girl to the side. Dimitri had cracked his skull with his hand before he could think about it. 

Blood coated his finger and his focus was renewed, the dead chanted their demands and Dimitri complied.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Once:

Imperial soldiers had set the village aflame. Screams were everywhere. The living, the dying, the dead. Those in front of him and those in his memories. Dimitri stumbled through the flames, Felix hand in his, tugging him forward and to safety. 

He followed blindly. Behind him, someone attacked Glenn. The squelch of a skull being crushed. A Father screamed for vengeance as the axe removed his head. A child begged for her mother to stop. Duscur. Remire. A village, a village.

Dimitri did not know where he was.

Felix was beside him. In front of him. Holding his hand. Keeping him steady. Keeping him alive. 

“Come on. Come one.” 

_You need to run!_ Someone screamed. Was it in reality or memory? _Get him out of here._

Felix held his hand. Felix held him close. Felix’s breath against his forehead. Away from the village and into the night.

Dimitri did not stop shaking for a long time.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Or:

It was all but impossible to cross into the empire. _She_ had prepared for war for a long time. Treacherously taking advantage of the relative peace to follow her monstrous goals. Misleading well-meaning people and spreading her poison. “I will have her head. For you, father, mother, Glenn.”

A sound of frustration behind him, but Dimitri ignored it, focused instead on his father, who told him to work faster, that he was taking too much time. Dimitri knew that already. 

“We won’t get through here.”

Felix said behind him, and Dimitri turned around. “The emperor is prepared, she is watching all the routes for spies.”

Dimitri growled. “And her spies crawl everywhere.” 

Felix shrugged, “Claude’s too probably.” then more serious. “If you want to reach her in Enbarr you need help.”

A sound of disgust was the only answer that such a claim deserved. This was Dimitri’s vengeance. His task. His duty. 

Felix would not be deterred.

“You should seek out my father.” he implored, “rally the kingdom, kill Cornelia” and that was tempting, “protect the people of Faerghus. Maybe you can work with the alliance, the emperor is threatening them too…”

But Dimitri no longer listened. He did not have time for plots and schemes. With each moment that passed the torment of the dead increased. With each time the sun rose and fell without the emperor's blood on his hands he failed.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

And:

Someone was hunting them. Dimitri had gotten injured, exterminating imperial vermin, but wounds rarely slowed him down for long. He was a much better hunter than _her_ minions, he could hunt them even when they thought they had the upper hand.

The smaller parties were always the easiest to kill, no matter how well equipped. Dimitri was hiding in the trees, recovering from an injury that only Felix insisted demanded rest when he spotted them. To riders, one on horseback the other a pegasus knight. A red-haired man and a blonde woman. (He knew them.)

Something coursed through him when he saw them. He tightened his grip on his lance.

“Don't attack them.” rarely did Felix sound so furious, “Don’t you dare, Dimitri.”

Dimitri looked at him and felt pity well up in him. He reached out and tugged a strand of Felix’s hair behind his ear. 

“Go to them.” Felix all but begged him. “It’s Ingrid and Sylvain. They can help you.”

But he would not, he would not, he would not. He could not trust them. They had left him in the dungeons of Fhirdiad. Waited for his death. He would not give them the satisfaction.

“I can’t, Felix,” he told his friend kindly. “I know that they are your friends, but they betrayed me. I can’t trust them.”

Felix shook his head, looking tired and defeated.

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Then:

It was raining so heavily that Dimitri and Felix had taken shelter in a cave. They could see the rain turn into muddy rivers on the mountainside. The wound in Dimitri’s side throbbed. Felix had taken a look at it, and he knew it wasn’t infected, but it was not healing as well as it should. Poison he knew. The imperial rats had taken to poisoning their weapons. Dimitri usually disregarded smaller wounds, a mistake, he supposed, when dealing with cowardly vermin. If not for his inherited stamina and resilience, the poison would have killed him before. But he was resilient. They would not beat him.

Dimitri looked to his left where Felix was sitting. Frowning, as he always did these days, and watching the rainfall. Felix did not share this advantage. The thought, unwelcome as many things were these days, sent a cold spark of dread through him. Fear clawed at his throat.

“Felix,” he found himself whispering over the sound of the rain, “Felix, you need to be careful. The poison...”

Felix turned to look at him and huffed. “You don’t need to tell me that. I am not the one who got poisoned.”

“I know,” Dimitri assured him, “that you are capable. I was… foolish, but… but I worry. Felix…”

He could not finish the sentence. Did not want to contemplate the possibility. 

Felix looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I am the last person you should be worried about.”

 **.:** ⛊ **:.**

Once:

Anger overcame him like a rush and Dimitri turned away from Felix, pretended he wasn't around. He ignored Felix’s voice, and instead went to deal with what was important: Imperial soldiers. He could see them, hear them, smell them. The dead demanded their demise, and their presence was an affront. He would kill them. No matter what Felix wanted. Felix didn’t understand.

“Dimitri! Stop this!” Felix shouted behind him, “There are too many of them!”

Dimitri ignored him, marching forward, tracking the convoy of soldiers that made their way through the narrow mountain passes. How foolish of them to hunt in his territory. They were the biggest party he had had to face as far as he could remember. Well armored, and likely well trained. Send by the emperor to support the usurper. 

Felix cursed him behind him. Calling him a fool, a boar, a madman.

Dimitri did not wait for Felix to follow. He knew he would. Felix always did. He never left him. 

(After all, he had promised.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gronder field. Please mind the archive warnings!

Dimitri was in the process of ripping his ruined lance from the body of an imperial rat, when Felix suddenly addressed him, his voice sounding unusually thoughtful. 

“Did you hear what they were talking about before you attack them?”

Dimitri grunted to signal his disinterest in the topic. The soldiers had been in good spirits. Laughing and almost celebratory. Nothing good could come of that, and he had no interest in their triumphs. 

Felix, however, did not let the matter go. “They mentioned a celebration the emperor is planning on the anniversary of the monastery's fall.” At least his voice dripped with disdain. 

Dimitri growled despite himself, he ignored the look of satisfaction that flashed across Felix’s face for a moment. 

“It reminded me of another anniversary.”

Dimitri went back to ignoring him. Choosing instead to inspect his lance. It was a sturdy steel lance he had acquired from an empire supply train. It had served him reasonably well but was now breaking down. Unsurprising really, given that it was a creation of the foul empire. 

Dimitri tossed it aside and looked around the battlefield. To his left, a man was still gurgling out his last breath. His brown eyes went wide and wild when Dimitri walked over to him. Dimitri kneeled down and inspected the lance laying next to the soldier. It was a cheap thing, poor quality, almost broken already. 

He clicked his tongue and used it to put the man out of his misery, before throwing the lance aside like the trash that it was.

“Dimitri.”

Dimitri ignored him and instead went to inspect another weapon. Usually, he would go for the leader, but the woman had been using an axe, just like  _ her _ . He had ripped it from her hands and smashed it into her face. Maybe he would do the same to the emperor.

The thought made him smile. 

Felix made a sound of disgust, and from the corner of his eye, Dimitri spotted him turning away. 

After a moment Felix spoke again. “Try this one.”

He kicked the arm of the body of one of the cavaliers that Dimitri had not taken out. Instead, the man had been thrown by his startled horse, breaking his neck in the fall. 

“You can inspect weapons as well as I,” Dimitri grumbled but made his way over anyway.

“Ha.” Felix scoffed, “I’m not the one who keeps breaking his weapon, so I don’t need to do this.”

Dimitri shrugged him off, bending down to inspect the lance of the rider. He pursed his lips, a familiar mixture of annoyance and gratitude rushing through him. Felix had been right. This lance would serve him well. 

He stood up and swung the lance to test the balance. It was a good weapon. 

When he turned around to Felix the other was watching him thoughtfully. 

“Dimitri. Do you remember the promise?”

Which promise, Dimitri wondered, The one Felix made, to stay? The one Dimitri made, to the dead? 

He shrugged and turned away, expecting Felix to let it go when they got moving again. On the move Felix always put his focus unto making sure that no one could sneak up on them. 

He was surprised to find that it did not hold true this time. 

Felix caught up to him with two quick strides, and put his hand on Dimitri's shoulder, whirling him around. There was a pinched look on his face.

“Dimitri.” something about the insistent tone and the look on his face that Dimitri had no name for, prevented him from ripping himself free of Felix’s grip. Instead, he reluctantly listened. 

“The promise with Byleth— the professor.”

Dimitri’s heart missed a beat. That promise was—

“It doesn’t matter.” he spat out, Felix grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Doesn’t it? Weren’t you the one who was so happy about it?”

Dimitri looked away. “It was foolish.”

“Maybe,” Felix allowed, “that does not mean that it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Dimitri looked back at him again. “The professor is dead, and we hardly have the time to worry about a silly class reunion of all things.”

Around him, the ghosts stirred.

_ The emperor needs to die.  _ She did.

“You made a promise.” Felix reminded him mercilessly, cutting off whatever important instructions the ghosts had for him. “And It is one that is easy enough to keep.”

A snort, and then the expression on Felix’s face turned nasty, goading, “But if you cannot even keep an easy promise like that, how could you hope to fulfill your precious duty to the dead.”

Felix said it mockingly, but the ghosts fell silent all the same. Whatever they had planned on telling him fell away. Suddenly, their looks no longer felt demanding, but suspicious. A shiver went through Dimitri as they sized him up.

“Very well,” he spat, kicking aside a corpse in his way. “To the monastery then.” He found himself laughing. “It is not as though it will matter. It will only be us there.”

Only them and some imperial soldiers. If nothing else, Dimitri could clear them out. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The soldiers in the monastery turned out to be laughingly easy to dispatch, so laugh Dimitri did as he killed them. They screamed and cried and begged for mercy from the goddess that their emperor had raised her sword against.

One after another, he killed them, and more and more came drawn by the dying wails of their companions. Eventually, the monastery fell silent again. Dimitri wandered through the cathedral, taking in the broken ceiling and the shattered altar. All the signs of worship that had been destroyed. He left the main ship of the cathedral and stepped out onto the side balcony. In the fading light of the sun, everything was painted in warm shades. In parts, it looked like the monastery was covered in blood. Maybe it was. 

Movement to his right drew his attention, and Dimitri felt a cold smile form on his lips as he spotted the gleam of adrestian armor. He rushed across the distance and slammed open the door. There was a scream ahead of him.

“Stop him on the stairs! Don’t let him have full reach!”

As if he needed his skill to kill them. They died easily, though he was rather frustrated with the last soldiers choosing to jump from the balcony rather than find his end at Dimitri’s hand. The last of the sunlight was fading away, making the inside of the tower fall into darkness. Much like it had been the other times he had been here. 

Dimitri settled down against a wall to sleep, not caring about the blood still covering him and his weapon. He looked up at when someone clicked their tongue, knowing, even before he spotted him, that it was Felix. 

Felix stepped over the last corpse in the doorway and kicked it back. It made clanking noises as it tumbled down a few steps. Once Dimitri would have been appalled by such treatment, but these days he wished Felix had kicked it harder. The sound of imperial armor clanking had been pleasant enough. 

“Here we are,” Dimitri grunted, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. Felix said nothing, instead, he stepped past where Dimitri was reclining, out onto the balcony. Backlit by the setting sun he looked more like a shadow than a person. 

“What do you think this will gain us, Felix?”

Felix was silent for a long moment, but despite not being able to make out his expression in the half-darkness of the room, Dimitri could feel his gaze on him. Studying him, seizing him up for some unknown purpose.

“You won’t get to Enbarr alone.”

Dimitri felt the wood of the lance creek ominously in his hand. “Oh?” he asked, dangerously calm, as he tensed.

“It has been almost five years,” Felix elaborated, “If it was possible for you, you would have done so already.” A pause, then in a different tone, “Marched to Enbarr, climbed the walls, ripped her head from her body.”

For a long moment, Dimitri said nothing. “And so?” he asked eventually.

“And so,” Felix answered. “You can only hope that your former classmates are still searching for you… Or remember their promise.”

Dimitri laughed. The idea was ridiculous. “Searching for what? I’m not their king, I have only one purpose.” Felix said nothing, so he continued, “The promise was to the professor and she is dead.” Then a thought, darkly ironic struck him, “Maybe our foolish arrival here, hoping to fulfill that promise,” he spat the word, “will rouse her ghost.”

Maybe it would. Maybe she too would join the ghosts counting on him for their vengeance. 

Felix stepped away from the entrance to the balcony. Uncharacteristically, he did not react to Dimitri’s anger at all. 

“We, or I, suppose I”, there was self-depreciation in his tone that was uncharacteristic, “can only hope.”

Dimitri hummed disbelieving. Felix took a seat next to him, their shoulders almost touching. Without conscious thought, Dimitri leaned towards him. “Do you really think they will come?” he found himself genuinely curious about the answer. Five years… had it truly been five years already? Five years since Edelgard had shown her true face, five years since the ghosts surrounding him had increased in great numbers…

If they really came… a few more ghosts would not really make a difference. 

“And how long will we wait?” Dimitri asked mockingly. 

Felix only looked back at him, unfazed. “Until the sun sets tomorrow.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The professor came with the dawn. And then their classmates returned, one after another, after another. Clinging to a foolish promise.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri paced the cathedral, ignoring all of his former classmates and the professor who came to check up on him periodically. Through it all, Felix remained. An angry and forbidding presence at his back. Despite hoping for their former classmates to come, it seemed that his friend was not actually happy with their presence, given that he kept away from them.

But then, Dimitri did not know when Felix had last been happy. Maybe he would be happy once their enemies were dead?

“Dimitri.” 

The professor approached him carefully, her steps echoing in the empty cathedral. What little monks and nuns had already returned did not care for his presence. Dimitri did not care for theirs either. They kept preaching about how those that had fallen to the emperor were now safe with the goddess. Dimitri knew better.

“Have you eaten?”

Dimitri grunted and turned away from the professor and her imploring gaze. She stayed for a moment longer but eventually turned away. He listened to her footsteps retreat.

On her way out, she stopped to talk to Felix, Dimitri did not bother to listen to what they said, more important matters required his attention. Soon he would have sufficient soldiers to pave his way towards Enbarr.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

With their stay in the monastery, Felix once again fell back into patterns of behavior that Dimitri had been glad to get rid of. When Gustave brought him a meal, Felix would nag him until he ate. When the sun set, Felix would make a nuisance of himself until Dimitri rested. 

Dimitri resented him for it, but Felix was impossible to ignore.

His very presence, especially now when they were no longer on the move, disturbed the ghosts. Caused them to fall silent as if they feared that Felix’s words could convince him to abandon their course.

“Go to sleep, Dimitri.”

Dimitri ignored him, choosing instead to listen to his stepmother recount her sorrows and the torment she suffered every day, dead, while her treacherous daughter lived.

“Dimitri.”

Felix stepped into his line of sight, and he briefly considered turning away to face another direction. It would not help, the look on Felix’s face was a familiar one, one that stated he would not let the matter rest.

“What?” he growled instead, refusing to give Felix the satisfaction of actually looking at him, he instead gazed over his shoulder to his father. Lambert's mouth moved, but Dimitri could not hear his words. 

“You need to sleep,” Felix said as if he himself had left Dimitri’s side since he retreated to the cathedral after the last battle. Dimitri snorted derisively. 

“Funny  _ you  _ should say that.”

Felix sighed and remained silent. Then he looked away from Dimitri and let his gaze wander around. Dimitri wondered if he was studying the ghosts, who drew back when Felix looked at them.

Felix spoke up again eventually. “You haven’t slept properly since we repelled the imperial invasion. And that was weeks ago.”

Yes, when the professor killed the rotten general, instead of letting him experience the suffering he deserved. 

“Neither have you.” Dimitri shot back.

“I have.” Felix's voice booked no arguments, “You were simply too busy with your delusions to notice.”

Stiffening, Dimitri whirled to actually face Felix head-on, taking steps closer to him menacingly. Like always, it remained ineffective, the only emotion it seemed to evoke in Felix was a mix of disgusted exasperation and pity.

“Do not test me, Felix.”

The silence returned. No one broke it, not even the ghosts.

Then Felix walked away. 

Dimitri followed him with his gaze as he made his way over to the side of the cathedral, towards the side room where the remains of statues of the saints stood. But he didn’t enter the room, instead, he simply settled down into one the more secluded coves of the cathedral.

As Dimitri watched, Felix shrugged off his cloak and spread it out on the ground before settling down and folding it up over himself like a provisional sleeping bag. He did not look at Dimitri again. Reluctantly, Dimitri found himself drawing closer to Felix, even as Felix turned his back to him. 

Felix had told him that he had rested. Was this how? Curled on in a corner, barely out of sight form Dimitri? 

He studies Felix, the rhythmic up and down of his shoulders as he breathed. Shoulders drawn up tight and curled up in himself. It did not look comfortable. 

Hesitantly, one step after another, Dimitri stepped closer still, until the bottom of his cloak was almost touching Felix’s back. Felix showed no reaction to his presence, but he did not look peaceful even in his sleep. The furrow between his brows, that had almost become characteristic to him, remained. Dimitri knelt down, hand reaching out to smooth it out, but he stopped before he touched Felix’s skin.

When was the last time he had seen Felix sleep? He did not remember. His hand still hovered over Felix’s face. The ghosts drew closer to them. Their voices a low murmur, talking, but Dimitri could not make out the words. 

Felix shivered, tugging his cloak even further up. 

Dimitri's hands were on the clasp of his own cloak before he thought about it. The clasp was easy to undo, and the cloak half slipped off his shoulders. Slowly, oh so slowly, Dimitri tugged himself against Felix, pulling him against his chest, and wrapping the warm fur cloak around them both. He felt Felix relax into the warmth of his body and felt himself relax in turn. Felix wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe, and Dimitri listened to the murmurs of the dead, the sound of Felix’s breathing and the steady thump of his own heartbeat. He tugged his nose into Felix’s hair, half undone and breathed in the familiar smell. 

Then, despite all that he needed to do, he rested.

Dimitri didn’t know if he actually slept, but when he returned to consciousness, he was lying on his back, with Felix half on top of him, still wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms and his cloak. Felix was watching him, looking down at him with an unreadable gaze, and his hand was resting on Dimitri’s cheek, his thumb stroke along his cheekbone.

Dimitri met his gaze evenly and did not move away. They simply lay that way for a while before the sun broke through the hole in the ceiling of the cathedral and the day began again. Today they would march for Ailell. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Even Dimitri could admit that Ailell was aptly named. He wondered if the torment of the dead was anything akin to what one would suffer should you fall into the ever-burning fires of Ailell. Whether it had truly been created by the rage of the goddess or not, the rage something burned here, and Dimitri burned with it.

Facing his treacherous countrymen was almost like catharsis. He had respected Lord Gwendal once, the Grey Lion was someone the children of Faerghus had grown up admiring, but now, he felt only disgust.

“A once proud lion reduced to a traitor's underling.” Dimitri shook his head as he faced the man, behind him, his father demanded the traitor's head, as was his right. How painful it must be to have a man you respected side with your slayers. 

Gwendal did not understand, however, “A traitor’s underling? Such upsetting words. Your Highness, you should know that I have always been a proud knight in the service of house Rowe.”

Dimitri spun his lance and lunged, the knight barely evaded his strike. “And yet, you still address me by my title. What are you, if not a traitor raising your weapon against me?”

The knight did not respond, and their battle continued. Eventually, Gwendal fell to his lance as Dimitri bisected his horse and carved through his armor. The lance in his hands was barely usable, but it would be sufficient to end one more life.

Lord Gwendal would die without his input, but Dimitri found himself approaching the man all the same. He was conscious still, his breathing heavy and labored, but he did not try to get up and fight again when he spotted Dimitri coming for him.

Instead, he seemed curiously at peace for a man about to die.

“So this is where I die…” grey-brown eyes gazed up at him from the aged face. “At the blade at the rightful king of Faerghus.” though he looked at Dimitri’s broken lance with a mixture of nostalgia and disapproval. “We are in a time of change, your highness. What becomes of the kingdom is up to you… but Cornelia…”

He did not get to finish whatever platitudes he was about to sprout. Dimitri had no need to listen to the declarations of traitors. He brought the lance down. 

“Cornelia needs to die.”

The ghosts cheered but fell silent when Felix clicked his tongue next to him. Dimitri had not seen him during the battle, but Dimitri never really paid attention to anything but the enemies that he needed to kill, so that wasn’t unusual.

“So she does.” he agreed, looking from Dimitri to the corpse, “Are you finally going to do the smart thing? Eliminate Cornelia, rally the kingdom, and bring its full might against the emperor?”

Dimitri laughed, aware that Felix knew the answer to that question, and wrenched his lance from the corpse of the knight before tossing it aside. It was of no more use to him.

“I don’t have time to waste on killing that traitor Cornelia.”

“You should.”

Dimitri ignored him and instead inspected the battlefield. With the death of their commander, many of the enemy's forces had chosen to flee, but the few that still remained were easily corralled by their own troops and the soldiers of house Fraldarius who had joined them mid-battle. The sight of it filled Dimitri with savage pleasure. He could already imagine them laying waste to Enbarr, while he ripped the emperor’s head from her neck.

It would be a joyous occasion. 

The sound of hoofbeats behind them, and then someone dismounted. Dimitri did not turn. Felix’s face had shown no sign of alarm, and for all that Felix did not understand why the emperor and her ilk needed to die, and why they could not waste their time on meaningless battles, he had never betrayed him.

There was, however, a different mix of emotions on Felix’s face. Pain, sorrow, anger, and longing. As if Felix too was finally seeing the dead.

But it wasn’t a dead man that had found them. 

“Your highness,” there was so much emotion in Rodrigue’s voice that Dimitri could do nothing but turn to face him.

The duke had aged since Dimitri had last seen him. The grief that had always been clear in his eyes, had now lined his face and stolen the color from his once dark hair. The smile on his face, however, was so genuine and relieved that Dimitri found himself almost uncomfortable under the force of it.

“Rod—”

But before he could finish he found himself swept into a tight hug. Dimitri stiffened. “Dimitri, I am so glad to see you alive.”

Dimitri was unsure what to do. He found his eyes flickering to Felix helpless, but the other man was simply watching them from the side, a sad look on his face as he gazed at his father. Then he turned and walked over to the professor who was still a way off, but making their way towards them as well. 

Rodrigue released him after giving him one last squeeze, and then he stepped back. Dimitri was terrified by the wet sheen in the man’s eyes. 

“When no news of you came… I feared the worst. I thought that I, ” Rodrigue’s smile now was weak but true, “.. You…” he studied Dimitri’s face, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes and the scars around his right eye. “You should have come to Fraldarius.”

Dimitri said nothing, only took a step back.

“This—” the words were awkward on his tongue. “This is hardly the time.”

Rodrigue nodded, his face smoothing out slightly, but the pain remained in his eyes “Yes, I suppose that is true. We are at war after all… The last few years were hard, and the kingdom needs its king.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri would not be the king Rodrigue wished for, but it did not deter the duke Fraldarius. Despite his clear disapproval of Dimitri’s plans, shared as they were by his son, he delivered the promised soldiers as well as Areadbhar, his father’s lance.

Dimitri had never used it before, but it pulsed in his hand as if it had a heartbeat on its own. It was as if he was wrapping his hand around another person’s heart and squeezing, but the heart would not give.

Dimitri kept Areadbhar at his side and let its pulsing glow soothe him at night. Soon. Soon. There was something immensely satisfying of the thought of killing Edelgard with his father’s lance, and the ghosts agreed. 

Foolishly, Dimitri had assumed that Rodrigue’s arrival would bring him a reprieve from Felix’s constant nagging, but if anything, Felix only got more insistent. Instead of spending time with his father and catching up after the years, they had been apart, it seemed like the only time when he did not stick to Dimitri's side was when Rodrigue joined Dimitri. 

Unfortunately, for all that they did not talk or argue with Dimitri at the same time, the two men of house Fraldarius seemed of the same mind. They did not approve of Dimitri’s plans, but while Rodrigue calmly assured him of his support all the while radiating disapproval, Felix just stuck to staying with him and radiating disapproval. 

He also took to nagging Dimitri about taking better care of himself again.

“You stink, boar.” Dimitri had not heard that nickname in a while. So he turned to face Felix who was looking at him with actual disgust, his nose wrinkled. 

“Was your sense of taste truly the only thing you lost? How can you stand that odor?”

Dimitri simply grunted. He had washed himself enough, Felix was just being disagreeable.

“If it bothers you so much, you are free to leave.”

Felix ignored him, instead chose to walk closer, tugging at Dimitri’s cloak and wrinkling his nose further. With a growl of annoyance, Dimitri ripped the cloak from his grip. Felix clicked his tongue. “Keeping my father company would give me nothing.”

The laugh that tore from Dimitri’s throat was disbelieving and half-hearted at best. “And it gives you something to stay with me?”

Felix looked him in the eyes “...Yes.” He said eventually, though he did not sound happy about it. The sudden and unexpected surety of his words made Dimitri feel small, and he fidgeted uncomfortably, tucking his cloak tighter around himself. 

“I see,” he mumbled and looked away. The ghosts had retreated, but the heartbeat glow of Areadbhar remained. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Felix asked him after a moment, and for the first time since they were children, he sounded unsure. It startled Dimitri enough to look at him again. For a heartbeat, Felix looked younger. Like—before Duscur, sticking to Dimitri and looking for reassurance. Reassurance, Dimitri no longer knew how to live.

Throat dry, he forced the words out. “... No.”

Felix nodded and turned his face away. He shifted his stance and when he locked eyes with Dimitri again, the vulnerability was gone and the scroll and wrinkled nose were back.

“Then take a bath,” he said, “Otherwise, you leave me no choice.”

It was a lie, but Dimitri did not call him out on it. Instead, he turned towards the entrance of the cathedral. “Very well,” he said, “but tell me Felix… what do you gain from staying at my side?”

He did not expect an answer, and he did not think Felix intended for him to hear the one he gave. But hear it, he did. 

“Peace of mind,” he heard Felix mumble to himself, “Or as close as I can get, at least.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The war against the empire, against Edelgard, began for real. They crossed the Great Bridge of Myrddin, Ferdinand surrendered, and Dedue returned. Savage satisfaction courses through Dimitri. The emperor and her dogs had failed. His classmates marched behind him with grim certainty, their lives at his command. His army marched onwards, bolstered further by the hordes of ghosts that dogged his footsteps. Soon he would release them. Soon they would be at peace. Soon the emperor would be dead.

Only, it wasn’t the emperor who died.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

They were between the emperor’s armies in the west and Claude’s armies in the east. If not for Claude’s treachery—and they should not have been surprised by that—then there would have been no doubt that they would crush the imperial armies. As it was, they would have to make do. Dimitri hefted Areadbhar. The lance crackled with energy. Then they charged.

The hill was their first true obstacle. And as soon as they managed to beat back Edelgard’s forces, she set it aflame.

On and on they pushed, while the emperor threw everything she had at them. Closer and closer they pressed and he almost had her in his grasp. He could already feel the soft skin of her neck give way beneath his hands as he pushed forward, but then she drew back.

Fled like a rat. 

Dimitri screamed his rage to the heavens, even as the imperial army fought to retreat around him. He destroyed everyone who made the mistake of getting in his way. Insistent on chasing Edelgard down, but Hubert had put her beyond his grasp. 

There were dead soldiers all around him and Dimitri could already see them rise to join the legions of the dead who crowded him. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Felix making his way over to him, his expression pinched, even as the dead drew back from him as if his very presence struck them with fear. 

“Are you pleased?” Felix asked as soon as he was within earshot. Dimitri turned away from him, and Areadbhar pulsed in his hand. Maybe if he hurried he could catch up with the wretched emperor and her ilk. Transportation magic could only take you so far, and he had wounded that filthy monster. The sight of her blood on Aeadbhar’s blade pleased him, and it pleased the ghosts. They shrieked for more and more and more. They wanted to see him bathed in it and Dimitri wasn’t opposed. 

Felix clicked his tongue. “You should return to the rest of the troops, standing here like some target won’t help you kill the emperor, she isn’t coming back.”

Dimitri growled and started marching forward. 

“What do you think you are doing? Dimitri!” Felix shouted behind him.

“She thinks she can escape,” Dimitri told him. 

Felix made a noise of frustration. “She already has!” He retorted.

“No!” Dimitri snarled but did not turn around. Felix would not distract him from his purpose.

_ Kill her _ , his father.  _ Destroy her,  _ Glenn.  _ Put her down _ , his stepmother.

Dimitri would give them the vengeance they deserved. 

The sound of hoofbeats approaching. Dimitri readied himself.

“Your highness!” it was Rodrigue, “We have to retreat to the bridge.”

Edelgard had ordered her men to guard her retreat, the battle was still going on. Cowardly. Cowardly. Cowardly. 

“I will pursue.” he mumbled half to himself, then a command, “The rest of you keep fighting!” 

“You can’t be serious!” Felix shouted, and turned to look for the professor. She wasn’t far behind them, casting magic at their enemies.

“I’m sorry, your Highness.” Rodrigues's voice was firm and he actually dared to guide his horse between Dimitri and his prey. “We can’t do that. Much as we want her dead, with the imperial army closing in… there are too many of them.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Dimitri snapped back, stepping forward. “Hundred or thousand… I will simply have to kill them all!”

“Your Highness.” Rodrigue looked pained, Dimitri knew that look, and on Felix's face, he had once hated seeing it. “That course of action does not have any chance of success.”

Dimitri growled.

“Dimitri,” now Felix as well, the same look on his face, stepping up next to his father. “... we will get her… but not today.”

_ Kill them, don’t let them stop you.  _ His stepmother said  _ Edelgard’s end is more important.  _ But for once, the other ghosts did not back her up. Glenn, his father, they remained silent.

“No,” Dimitri growled, both to his stepmother and Rodrigue and Felix. He stepped forward, to the side and past them. 

“Your Highness—” but something else drew his attention. Behind them, the sound of the professor's magic crackled, the neighing of horses ran out. The sounds of battle drawing closer. 

Footsteps were coming closer. “Girl.” Rodrigue addressed someone, his voice firm, commanding, “Go back to the main army, this is no place for you.”

Dimitri threw a look at the girl, the one who had only recently joined them, then he marched past her.

“Dimitri!” Felix, again. Dimitri was growing tired of the interruptions. He ignored him, but then Felix called him again, his tone different, almost panicked. “Dima!” 

A warning that came too late. Sharp pain erupted from his side, and he staggered to his knees. The knife in his side scraped over bone. 

“Die you monster! Die!” the girl screamed, wrenching the blade from his side, “I’ll never forgive you. For my brother. Die! Die! Die!”

Felix screamed his name. The professor screamed his name. Rodrigue screamed his name.

The girl raised the knife again, his muscles trembled. Poison, he realized, a paralytic. The weapon of someone who wanted him dead, and unable to fight back. “Die!” She screamed again, and Dimitri braced himself for the blow. It never came.

“Dimitri!” Rodrigue was between him and the knife. Dimitri heard him grunt in pain, and grapple with the girl who had attacked him, “Professor!” Rodrigue shouted. 

The Professor reacted. The sword of the creator flashed through the air and the girl fell to the ground dead. It didn’t matter to Dimitri because—

One moment, he was staring wide-eyed at Rodrigue’s back and the next his body fell into Dimitri’s arms. There were footsteps rushing towards them. The professor knelt down next to them, her eyes pinched and looking absolutely drained. Still, her fingers sparked with faith magic and she pressed them to Rodrigue’s chest.

Dimitri’s breathing echoed oddly in his head, and Rodrigue’s body felt wrong cradled awkwardly in his arms. 

The professor made a pained sound. Dimitri stared at her. Took in her wide eyes, looking down at Rodrigue as if in pain, the tremble of her hands, now covered in blood. But the Professor did not look at him, she turned to look behind her, but they were far from their comrades. 

“It’s alright,” Rodrigue said, sounding terribly calm, even if those two words alone sent a shudder of pain through him and made him caught. Blood dribbled down his chin. 

“Rodrigue!” The name was torn from his lips. “You—”

“Your Highness…” Rodrigue’s eyes searched his face. “Your wounds… are you... Alright? Please…”

Dimitri shook his head. “I— “

He could still feel the pain from the knife wound, but it wasn’t a dangerous injury, what hampered him had been the lack of balance.

Rodrigue smiled. “Good.”

“No.” Dimitri had been the target. He had done something that had made that girl want to kill him. He should have been the one who—

“No,” he repeated, “No, no, no. It was my punishment.”

Rodrigue huffed a laugh. He sounded sad. “There are no sins or punishment on the battlefield. Only survival… and death.”

“No, You can’t die.” The words spilled forth without thought. “A healer—” he looked around, “We need a healer.”

The professor was watching him sadly, her magic drained. Felix was staring at his father and Dimitri—

“Don’t die. Please don’t die. Don’t leave.” He shook his head.

Rodrigue raised his arm, reaching for him and Dimitri grasped his hands between his own. 

“Don’t leave. I don’t want more people to die for me, not like this. I don’t want it.”

There were already too many ghosts following him.

“I—” And this was the honest truth, “I am not worth it.”

Rodrigue's hand squeezed his with sudden strength. “That is not for you to decide.”

Dimitri stared at him wide-eyed, Rodrigue continued, voice soft, but firm, despite the pain he clearly was in, “When people chose to die for you, to protect you, they do so because they think you are worth it. What you think does not matter. They made the choice to protect that life, your life, because to them… to us, it was worth saving.”

Dimitri moved his mouth, but for a long moment, no sounds escaped him. He shook his head as if to shake the words loose.

“When someone protects you,“ Rodrigue rasped, “Dies for you, it’s not so you could avenge them, but so that you would live. That your life would continue, that you would grow and be happy and smile and be the best person you could be.”

His eyes searched Dimitri’s own, and then he continued. 

“My sons did it because they loved you, Dimitri, and someone who loves you would prefer to remain unavenged if the price for vengeance was your life and happiness.” The grip the duke had on his hand was losing its strength, his voice fading further and further, but the force of his gaze held Dimitri spellbound.

“So I ask you…. Please.” Rodrigue implored him, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, live. Mourn me, but move on. I’ll be with… my sons.”

Then Rodrigues' grip slackened, his hand fell and his breathing ceased. His body was still warm in Dimitri’s arms, but his gaze unseeing. He was dead. Gone to join— Gone to join  _ his sons _ .

With a shaky exhale Dimitri forced himself to look up to seek out that one person who had not left his side, who had guarded him and protected him and chided him and—

Felix.

The swordsman met his gaze, his face was still and unreadable. 

“I,” Felix eventually said, not looking away, “want you to live.”

His voice seemed to echo, and Dimitri  _ remembered _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Sorry?  
> Next time is flashback time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: Duscur, Violence against children, descriptions of death and violence. 
> 
> If you are uncomfortable reading about the massacre in Duscur, please skip from the scene that starts with "The attack on the next day came...", and go towards the end of the chapter. The last few sentences should be fine.. I will add a short summary of the events of the attack in the end note.

_ Felix telling him: Live, Dima. _

_ Fire around him, blood dripping onto him. Dark hair falling into his face, clinging to his sticky chin. The glow of the Aegis Shield. A body above him, small and light and going limp. _

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The journey to Duscur had been calm and pleasant, and Dimitri had enjoyed himself immensely. It was so much more fun to travel with someone his own age, and more so because it was Felix. It wasn’t the first time Dimitri had left Fhirdiad to travel of course, far from it, but it was the first time they traveled to the North-western part of the kingdom. The sight of the city from here was different from the one that Dimitri was used to seeing. 

The landscape, however, stayed mostly the same. As they left the fertile lands surrounding Fhirdiad behind, the landscape became rougher. Forest rather than fields, but not as lush as those in the direction of Fraldarius. 

At night, Felix and Dimitri slept in the same tent, and during the day they rode next to each other with Dimitri’s father who pointed out various landmarks that were new to them. It felt like an adventure.

Unlike Dimitri, however, Felix did not much enjoy riding.

He was a passable rider of course—how could he not be when he had trained for years?—but he found no great enjoyment in it and was always just a bit uncomfortable, happier with his feet on the ground.

The day before they would cross into Duscur territory, it was raining outside and the terrain they would be traveling was more difficult to maneuver. Felix looked worried as they approached their horses and Dimitri took a quick look around, spotting his stepmother still outside. 

“Do you want to ride with Lady Patricia today?”

Felix blinked at him, raindrops already wetting his face and clinging to his lashes. He looked torn between the comfort of the carriage and keeping up with Dimitri and Glenn.

Dimitri didn’t know what would have won out eventually, Felix's pride or his common sense, but in the end, it was Dimitri's father who made the decision for him. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

Neither of the boys had noticed him come up behind them until he spoke, and so they started at the sound of his voice, jumping slightly. Dimitri felt himself flushing slightly at the teasing tilt of his father’s smile.

“Patricia must be terribly bored riding on her own all day. I’m sure she would appreciate the company.” Lambert began by addressing Felix alone, but as he talked he gazed at Dimitri as well, Dimitri shook his head impeccable. He wanted to ride, Ser Gustave had made him practice difficult terrain a lot and he wanted to see if he could do it in a formation.

“Oh.” Felix looked back between him and his father, and Dimitri gave him a smile. “Well, I guess if she would like company… then I don’t mind.” He was blushing and avoiding eye contact with either of them, so he missed the grin and wink Lambert threw Dimitri. It was probably a good thing, nothing could make Felix want to do something more than someone telling him he couldn’t do it.

“Good,” Lambert said and placed one of his hands on Felix’s shoulder. “Then let’s get you over there.” And with that, he led him off. Dimitri followed, hoping to be able to talk with his stepmother for a moment while the camp was still packing up. 

During the time they had been talking, Patricia had already stepped inside the carriage, but the door was still open to let in fresh air. Dimitri spotted her leaning slightly against the wall of the carriage and paging through a book. She startled when his father knocked on the carriage to get her attention.

“Patricia, sorry to interrupt you.”

Patricia waved him off with a smile, eyes wandering over her visitors. She laughed lightly and placed down her book.

“There is no need for that. I have plenty of time as of late.”

Father gave her a smile. “That is part of the reason for our unannounced visits. I was wondering if you would mind some company today.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking from Dimitri to Felix and then back at her husband. “Which gentlemen will join me today?”

Felix took a half step forward. “Me, Lady Patricia, if you don’t mind the company.” 

Usually, his stepmother seemed to enjoy Felix's company. Dimitri had dragged Felix along to have tea with her several times, but today her smile seemed halfhearted. She had been listless as of late and it had followed her on the journey. Dimitri hoped she wasn’t getting sick.

“I’d love some company, Felix.” she smiled, but there was a tightness around her eyes, and it seemed almost like she could hardly bring herself to look at Felix. “I read an excellent book, recently, I believe you told me you read it as well.”

Felix grinned at her and followed her gesture of invitation into the carriage before he turned around to Dimitri and king Lambert again.

“I will see you later.”

Dimitri nodded, “Of course! I’ll come pick you up when we take a break.” 

He grinned when he noticed Felix’s pout, and it got even wider when he heard his stepmother soft chuckle. Father seemed amused as well.

“Until later,” he said, but then paused, “ Do you need anything else?”

Patricia shook her head with a smile. “No, thank you.”

Father hesitated clearly wanting to say something, but in the end, he decided against it. “Have a pleasant journey,” he said instead.

Dimitri waved goodbye to his stepmother and Felix before following his father. When he caught up to him Lambert looked down at him with a smile.

“Well, son, it seems like today you will ride with me.” his father grinned at him, and Dimitri grinned back. “I can show you some tricks that I picked up over the years.”

Dimitri agreed, but despite his eagerness, he did not miss the worried frown that his father threw back at the carriage. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The attack on the next day came out of nowhere. They were just settling down for the evening when it started. One moment Dimitri was watching the knights setting up the camp for the night—the last camp before they would be received by Duscur hospitality, or so his father had said—and the next things started burning.

Dimitri and his father had been walking towards his stepmother’s carriage to pick her up to take her meal with them when a tent near them burst into flame. The knight who had been setting it up went up in flames as well, a terrible scram getting torn from his throat. 

Dimitri stumbled backward until his father’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he was forcibly pulled against his father’s armored side.

“Stick with me.” Dimitri had never heard his father sound this severe, and he nodded reflectively, despite his terror. Around them, the whole camp seemed to be going up in flames. 

Dimitri noted with some trepidation that his father wasn’t armed, hadn’t seen the need for the short walk from their horses to his stepmother’s carriage, especially not with all the knights surrounding him. 

Dimitri was quite sure his father was regretting that choice now when all he had was a knife at his belt. 

“Are we going to the carriage?” he asked his father while looking around, trying to make sense of the chaos.

His father turned to look at him, the serious look still on his face. “No, we need—”

But Dimitri would never find out what it was they needed to do. An axe flew through the air towards them, a spell following in its wake. Dimitri saw his father’s eyes widen, his hand reached out and Dimitri was flying through the air, pushed back with all of his father’s Blaiddyd strength. It removed him from the impact area of the spell, but it did not stop him from seeing the axe remove his father’s head from his body. Blood sprayed into the air and came back down like rain. 

Lambert Egritte Blaiddyd’s head hit the ground the same moment Dimitri did. 

Fighting broke out among the burning tents. The clashing of blades rang out through the smoke. 

Dimitri stared at his father’s head and his sightless eyes stared back.

There were footsteps coming up behind him, but Dimitri could not tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. A hand landed on his shoulder and he was turned around until he could no longer see his father’s head.

“Your Highness, you need to get up!”

It was a knight of the royal guard, soot in his hair and eyes wild as they flickered between Dimitri and the sight behind him. He had green eyes, not blue ones like his father. Then those green eyes widened in horror.

Dimitri found himself pulled to his feet and shoved behind the knight. Steel met steel, and suddenly the strange pressure that had been keeping him almost as if in a trace burst like a bubble. Dimitri whirled around. The knight who had approached him was struggling against a burly man holding a throwing axe just like the one that had beheaded his father. From the corner of his eye, he spotted another knight take down a mage dressed in dark robes and then fall as the mage's dying spell hit home and took him with him. Unfortunately, the scream of pain the knight let out as he died distracted Dimitri’s savior long enough for his opponent to take advantage of his momentary lack of focus. He too died, and the man with the axe turned to face Dimitri.

Dimitri had never seen a person as menacing in his life. He advanced on Dimitri with quick strides, already preparing to strike him down. Dimitri managed to dodge the first strike, scrambling to the side and past the man, only to stumble over the corpse of the knight who had saved him previously. He fell, hitting the ground hard and trying to roll further away.

The attacker let out a laugh, his amusement at Dimitri’s futile struggle ringing through the chaos. Dimitri did not manage to get away and the man was upon him again. 

His attacker was wearing dark leather armor, Dimitri registered, and the axe in his hand, coming straight down on Dimitri’s head, had a wicked edge. Desperately, Dimitri tried to twist aside, but his father’s body—and when had he gotten close to his father’s body?—cut off his escape. There was nothing he could do, but watch the blade come closer and raise his arms in a desperate attempt to shield himself.

The blade came down, but suddenly, there was a grunt and the blade went past him, clanging against his father’s armor, screeching along the metal until it sunk into the soft flesh of the king’s armpit.

Dimitri’s gaze jerked up to the man who had attacked him, just in time to spot the light fade from his eyes. 

Someone had killed him by cutting him open. His new savior drew the sword from the body and the blood sprayed down on Dimitri and the armor of the man. A man, who was wearing the armor of the royal guard. Dimitri stared at him, and it took him a moment to recognize him.

Glenn. Glenn as Dimitri had never seen him before. Eyes hard and expression fixed, with blood on his face and hair, and a thin cut along his cheekbone. Glenn’s eyes flickered from Dimitri to the corpse of his father and all blood left his face. Dimitri could see him swallow and shift his weight, rolling his right shoulder. The sword with which he had killed the man was in his right hand, but his left hand was hanging limply down, blood drenching the sleeves. 

“Glenn?”

Glenn gave him a tight smile. “On your feet, your highness.”

Dimitri scrambled up, hands slipping through the mud as he tried not to put them either on his father’s body or the blood pooling around him. Footsteps sounded behind them and Dimitri flinched whirling around and taking a step back towards Glenn. Glenn, however, did not move his eyes, still scanning their surroundings.

“Did you see anyone else?” Glenn asked, voice carrying across the crackling of the flames.

“No.” Dimitri shuddered at the sound of the voice, his eyes drawn to the figure approaching them. Felix. Felix. Felix was alive. 

He was covered in soot, his fine clothes dirty, the pants town at the knees. There was blood on his hands and Dimitri could make out the tear tracks on his soot-stained cheeks. He was also carrying the Aegis Shield that Rodrigue had given Glenn before they had left. It glowed softly, seeming to pulse in tune with Felix's heartbeat. 

Felix made his way over to them quickly. Dimitri saw his eyes flicker down to his father. Saw Felix bite his lip. Then Felix looked at him, eyes wide and wild and hand reaching for him. Reaching back was the easiest thing Dimitri had done all day. He took the bloody hand in his own, interlinking their fingers and tried to breathe. His hands were shaking and his grip on Felix’s hand was probably too tight, but Felix did not complain and instead tucked him closer so they stood shoulder to shoulder. 

“Come on you two,” Glenn said, voice sounding tense. He wasn’t looking at them, instead, his eyes kept flickering around looking for danger. “We need to get to a better position.”

Whatever better position that would be he did not tell them, but away from the fire seemed like a sensible choice. Glenn ushered them through the flames, his steady focus allowing Dimitri to breathe, if only for the moment, he still felt like he wasn’t really present in his body. If not for the tug of Felix’s hand he wasn’t sure if he would not have simply stopped walking. Each step took him farther and farther away from his father. His father’s body. They stepped past the dismembered head and Dimitri met his father’s accusing eyes. Over the dim of the flames, he could still make out the clang of steel on steel. Somewhere someone was screaming. Someone was crying. They walked past a man who was choking to death on his own blood.

Dimitri knew him. The man reached for them, blood bubbling past his lips, but they didn’t stop, Glenn pressed on, and the sweaty grip of Felix’s hand in his pulled Dimitri along as well. He could hear Felix’s quick breathing and the occasional sob he seemed to be choking back. In the distance, Dimitri could make out the forest they had traveled through earlier that day. 

They had almost left the remains of the burning campsite when Felix let out a sound of surprise. Violently tugging on Dimitri’s arm and pulling him to the side. A spell hit the ground not far from where they were standing, sending dust and dirt into the air.

Glenn cursed, turning and raising his sword. His still working arm was shaking, and he was unnaturally pale. Felix and Dimitri were still off-balance from Felix pulling him away from the impact of the spell, but they managed to make their way behind Glenn.

The person who attacked them turned out to be a mage. Just like the one, Dimitri had seen before she was dressed on dark robes, and her magical expertise was far beyond what a common mage could cast. She even had a staff to enhance her output. 

Glenn put himself between them decisively, but Dimitri could see his eyes flicker to the space behind the woman. Another mage and a man with a heavy hammer were approaching them.

“Run!” Glenn shouted, and advanced on the woman who laughed mockingly. She raised her hand preparing to cast, but Glenn was faster. 

Glenn threw himself at her, taking her to the ground with him. She hissed something and Dimitri could make out a choked cry from Glenn. A sizzling sound filled the air, and Glenn screamed in pain. He and the women rolled on the ground, scrambling for grips on each other. During a turn, Dimitri could make out Glenn’s face, half of it burned away. The other mage and the fighter stepped forward, but they weren’t fast enough. A sharp crack echoed around them, and the mage Glenn had been wrestling went limb. 

The other mage cursed and raised his hand, a spell building in his palm, as he pointed it towards Glenn.

“Go!” Glenn screamed, scrambling to his feet and away from the spell. It seemed like the words had been ripped from his throat with so much force that blood followed. He caught but did not turn to look at them. Dimitri took a half step forward, only Felix's grip on his hand prevented him from going further. Glenn was hurt and—

“Get him out of here, Felix!”

Felix bit back a whimper, but the grip he had on Dimitri’s hand tightened. Dmitri didn’t know if he could have brought himself to move and Felix not suddenly turned and started to run, dragging Dimitri behind him. 

The warrior cursed. “Stop them!” he barked, and as Dimitri looked back over his shoulder, he saw him advance on Glenn, while the mage scrambled to disengage. 

Felix pulled him away further, desperate and unrelenting and Dimitri followed, but he could not help but glance back again and again. He saw the mage running after them, hampered by the heavy robes and the fire that Felix kept pulling them through. He saw Glenn and the fighter clash.

Saw Glenn’s crest came to life. Saw him falter, saw—

Saw the hammer smash into his chest, sending him into the ground. The hammer came down on his head, and only the flames kept Dimitri from seeing the sight. When the fighter raised his hammer again, it was covered in blood.

Glenn was dead. Dimitri stopped, stumbled, and Felix cursed. Whirling around to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him upwards unrelentingly. “Glenn, Glenn, Glenn— “ Dimitri could not find the words, but Felix wasn’t listening anyway. “We have to go!” Felix sobbed, “Up. Up. Up.” he insisted, and Dimitri stumbled to his feet again, eyes flickering back behind them to the mage that had almost caught up to them. 

“Felix!” Dimitri shouted. Felix turned, saw their pursuer, and raised his hand. Lightning crackled on his fingertips and he raised his hand towards the mage. Dimitri looked back long enough, to see the mage falter, and let out a short pained scream as the spell hit him.

Dimitri hadn’t known that Felix knew magic other than the basic healing spell. The two of them stumbled through the burning wreckage, Felix hand tugging him on and on. 

Behind them, the mage shouted something, and Dimitri could feel the pressure of something building up. Felix cursed, he did not sound angry but terrified.

Again, his friend raised his hand, looking back momentarily to get the general direction, it made him stumble, but this time Dimitri dragged him along. Wherever Felix had seen behind them had made him more terrified than the general situation already had. His eyes were wide and wild, flickering around in panic, still lightning crackled at his fingertips and when he released it, both the crest of Fraldarius and the Aegis shield blazed as brightly as the midday sun. 

Dimitri had to clench his eyes shut and stumble on blindly while dragging Felix behind. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes.

Behind them, there was a scream of agony that seemed to go on forever and the ground seemed to rumble. The pressure that had steadily been building, however, remained. The mage was still screaming. Dimitri looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened in horror. Felix spell had clearly disrupted whatever the mage had been trying to do, but now the spell was out of control. A cloud of pure magic was building, pulsing ominously, and growing. The fighter that had (killed Glenn) attacked them was scrambling away from his partner, who was slowly but surely being consumed by his own spell.

Then as if a taut string was finally snapping, the spell exploded outwards. Dimitri lurched forward, attempting to tackle Felix towards the ground, but the magical explosion was faster.

The spell hit them with enough force to throw them into the air and through a wall of flames. Dimitri had no air left in his lungs to scream, but Felix did. They hit the ground hard, rolling through debris and flames and blood and the force of it ripped Felix’s hand from his own. Something in Dimitri’s left shoulder broke upon impact, but he barely felt it. Scrambling to his knees and looking around desperately. Somewhere to his right, Felix let out a choked desperate cry of pain. Dimitri whirled in his direction and tried to levy himself to his feet. His arm gave way under him and he landed face first in the muddy ground. It was warm. (Blood? Or was it because of the fire?)

His breath was rapid and erratic, it seemed no matter how often he tried to breathe in, no air reached his lungs. He forced himself up regardless, using his one working hand to push himself up enough to look around. Felix was still laying where he had landed, and a spike of terror shot through him. Digging his working hand into the mud Dimitri pulled himself towards his friend.

The relief he felt when he saw Felix’s chest moving up and down almost made him vomit. “Felix, Felix, Felix.”

A shudder went through his friend, and then he jerked upright, a sound of pain escaping him, but it did not stop him. He gave a wobbly smile when his eyes landed on Dimitri, but Dimitri could give him nothing in return but a grimace. 

Felix’s eyes flickered around their surroundings. Dimitri had no idea where the spell had sent them something big was burning next to them, likely one of the baggage trains, but that meant little to him, and from the helpless look on Felix’s face, he didn’t know either.

“Can you get up?” Felix asked him, already struggling to his feet himself. There was blood on his forehead from when he hit the ground, and skid marks on his left cheek.

“I, I’m not sure.” Dimitri pressed out, but he tried all the same. Using his working arm to stabilize himself, he pulled his knees under him and shakily rose. Felix’s hand grasped his arm as he swayed, steadying him. 

“We need to find cover,” Felix said, his voice a rough from the smoke he had inhaled. Dimitri noted that his friend was still crying, even as he steadily carried on. He wished he knew what to do.

“To the forest?” 

Felix gave a jerky nod. “Yes, maybe… maybe we can lose them there and hide. Surely, surely, someone will come.”

His voice broke on the last word, and Dimitri could do nothing but nod. They moved slowly and carefully, trying their best to avoid the flames. Bodies littered the ground. Servants and knights, all of them dead. Their eyes seemed to follow Dimitri as he passed them by. 

There were heavy steps behind them and Dimitri had just enough time to see Felix’s eyes widen in horror before something slammed into him.

Dimitri did not see the blow that sent him from his feet, but he felt the impact, felt his ribs fold and bend and break. 

He flew through the air again, shorter this time, but the impact was so much harder. He could taste blood in the back of his throat and his whole body erupted in white-hot agony. He rolled on the ground from the force of the impact, and each turn made spots dance in his vision until he finally came to rest on his back. 

“Dima!” Felix screamed his name, and Dimitri forced his eyes open. He was nauseous and could not move, but his eyes were still working and as he turned his head just a bit he could make out the form of his friend rushing towards him...

They had been close together, why were they so far apart now?

The look on Felix’s face was a violent mix of terror and desperation, and Dimitri realized why when another shadow fell over him. It was the fighter who had been with the mage. It must have been this man who had attacked him. The man who had killed Glenn, the blood still covered his weapon. 

Dimitri watched it rise and a sense of deja-vu overcame him, this had happened before, but there was no Glenn to save him now. Up and up and up the hammer rose, unlike an axe it had no edge. Would that make the blow more or less painful?

“Nothing personal, kid.”

The man's voice was tight with pain as well. A rush of satisfaction went through Dimitri when he realized that the man hadn’t gotten away unharmed, even if he found that he wanted the man dead rather than in pain.

The hammer came down, but there was no pain, at least not for him. The man attacking him let out a grunt of pain and stumbled to the side as Felix slammed into him, the Aegis shield glowing brightly, and his hunting knife carving into the unprotected tight.

Felix placed himself between Dimitri and the man, and the strange otherworldly calm Dimitri had felt watching his death approach vanished. 

“Felix!” he tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. Everything went dark for a moment.

He didn't know how long he had been out, but it couldn’t have been long. The flames were still raging around him, and Felix was still fighting the man with the hammer. Felix had lost the dagger, and he was merely defending at this point, refusing to budge from his defensive position over Dimitri’s prone form. Another blow from the hammer, sent Felix almost on top of him, the Aegis shield flaring brightly as it took force from the blow. The attacker laughed and swung again. Again. Again. And again.

Blow after blow, the clang on the hammer on the shield which held firm, with each impact Felix’s crest bloomed to life. 

The fight could only go on for so long. The fighter was tiering, but so was Felix who had been hurt from the impact of the spell.

Another blow almost sent Felix to his knees. Whatever nonchalance the fighter had had had long since faded. There was only grim determination on his face. “It’s over, kid.”

Felix gritted his teeth, and pushed himself upward, the man clicked his tongue and hefted his hammer. His eyes flickered to Dimitri for a moment, and his expression tightened. Felix shifted his weight, regaining the man’s attention. But then the fighter’s eyes widened, and Felix tensed all over. 

The man with the hammer reeled back attempting to flee, while Felix turned towards Dimitri throwing himself across him. The impact of his friend landing on him sent a renewed wave of pain through him, and Dimitri bit back a scream. He had no time to wonder at the reasons for those actions because suddenly there was a rumbling noise, a loud ominous crack, and the supply wagon that had been burning next to them crumbled in on itself.

It tilted sideways, heavy beams that were still burning fell towards them alongside burning debris. Dimitri felt Felix's body tense atop of him, arms braced on either side of his head as he prepared to shield Dimitri. Debris rained around them, and Felix made a choked off sound of pain and turned holding the shield above his head, the Aegis shield flared brightly and the beam that would have smashed them shattered when it impacted on it. He heard the crack of Felix’s arm breaking and the suppressed wail his friend let out.

To their right, the fighter wasn’t as lucky. Dimitri saw how one of the burning beams landed on top of him, smashing his head like he had smashed Glenn’s, and setting him aflame. The flames would reach them as well. 

They needed to move. Yet, Dimitri could barely feel anything but pain, and he did not think he would be able to move even if he tried. What would it feel like to burn?

A shudder went through him, once more setting his nerves aflame with a new wave of pain.

Dimitri did not want to know. Nor, did he not want to see Felix burn.

“Felix,” he forced out, the words barely audible to himself. In response he got a choked sob, then Felix pushed himself upwards and backward slightly, enough to meet Dimitri’s eyes. Dimitri felt a wave of horror rush through him because by moving, Felix had allowed Dimitri to get a better look at him, see more than the strained cloth of his tunic. 

The falling debris hadn't hit Dimitri, but Felix hadn’t been spared. Blood was dripping down his face, covering half his face like a curtain, and something was sticking from his back. Felix looked around, eyes no longer wild, but focused with a horrible determination in them.

The flames crept closer. 

Felix pushed himself upwards further, letting out a punched out sound of pain. Dimitri saw what little color was on his face vanish, but Felix did not stop, simply swallowed heavily and pushed on. He braced his elbows on the ground again and pushed himself upwards and to the side, almost of off Dimitri. Then he fiddled with the clasp of the shield, wrenching it from his arm and pressing it against Dimitri. 

Dimitri didn’t understand.

Another beam cracked and broke, the flames spread further, Felix sobbed in pain. And Dimitri smelled burning flesh. “Felix,” he gurgled half in panic, half in desperation. Despite his pain, he tried to push himself upright, but Felix did not let him. Instead, it was Felix who pressed him back on the ground, pushing the Aegis shield into his chest with enough force to make Dimitri let out a groan of pain. 

“Sorry,” Felix mumbled, “Sorry.” he sobbed, slumping forward and across Dimitri again. His breathing quick and erratic. “Sorry.” Then he coughed and blood spattered on Dimitri’s face. Felix’s weight pressed the Aegis shield into Dimitri’s chest and made his ribs flare with pain, but Dimitri didn't say anything, instead, he stared at his friend. 

Felix was still crying and he wished he could move his arms so he could give him a hug, or get them out of here, but he could not move. Felix moved slightly until he could place his hand onto the Aegis shield and then it flared, as the crest of Fraldarius lit it up. The heat of the flames lessened slightly, but the heat wasn’t Dimitri’s worst problem. He could barely breathe, and with each try, it got harder and harder, eventually, Felix noticed as well. Dimitri saw the panic in his eyes, as he leaned forward pressing their foreheads together. Felix's breath fanned across his face, hot and stuttering. “Breath.”

Dimitri tried. 

“In,” Felix commanded, even with his own breathing too flat and far too fast, “and out.” 

Dimitri tried.

He did not know how long they lay there on the ground amiss the flames and the ruins of the tents. On their right was a mountain of corpses, on their left his stepmother’s carriage burned like a giant bonfire, the flames reaching into the sky. He could still hear the sounds of fighting, but the smoke was too thick for him to see far.

There was fire and screams all around them, but the loudest sounds somehow still were his own desperate heartbeat and the gurgling sound of Felix’s breath.

It was hot and painful as if even the ground he was laying on was burning, but Felix’s body was as heavy as if the whole world was pressing down on him. Stones dug into his back and a sword cut into his shoulder, yet the Aegis shield had scorched hotter still on his chest, wrenched as it was between his and Felix’s body. 

Dimitri stared up at him even as every breath was pain and every moment an eternity. Felix, and the desperate lines of his face. Felix, with tears in his eyes begging him to breathe. The longer time stretched the weaker Felix’s voice got. Sometimes he shuddered in pain. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. Dimitri forced himself to breathe in tune with the pulsing of the shield, even as his delirious mind noted that Feix was barely breathing himself.

Dimitri took a deeper breath, “Fel—” he tried but it was barely a croak. Felix smiled. 

“Dima,” it was half whisper, half whimper, “Live.” And the blood dripped down. From his ears and his nose and his mouth and his eyes. Felix’s arm moved jerkily towards the shield until his bleeding hand rested on the creststone. Dimitri could feel each of his heaving desperate breaths through his own body. He felt Felix’s muscles tense, saw the flare of his crest, again, again and again until it was a steady glow. 

There was nothing Dimitri could do but lay there shielded by the glow of the Aegis shield and Felix's own broken body. Nothing, but watch as his best friend died, the light fading from his eyes, his forehead resting against Dimitri’s own and his hair falling in Dimitri’s face, his blood dripping down on him, and his breath fanning across Dimitri’s face until… until it stopped.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri remembered it now. Felix had died like that. Died to protect him, desperate and in pain and slowly, slowly, slowly bleeding to death. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix had said: Live, Dima. 

And Dimitri had said, he had said—

_ You don't understand. You weren’t there. You did not see. _

Oh, but he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the skipped parts:  
> During the initial start of the attack Dimitri is not with Glenn and Felix. He witnesses his father die, get attacked and saved by Glenn. They try to get out but get attacked again. Glenn tries to hold their attackers off, but he is already injured and fails. Dimitri sees Glenn die, but Felix drags him away. They are still pursued, get attacked, and Dimitri gets injured, Felix protects him as best he can, but while they survive the initial attack, Felix dies of the wound still physically shielding Dimitri.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features outsider POV, so no Dimitri or Felix this time.  
> It also deals with the immediate aftermath of the massacre of the royal family. In the Rodrigue scene there is speculation about what happened in the previous chapter, and some injuries are described. I don't think it's very explicit but if you are sensitive to such descriptions be careful after the "He could not have braced himself for how small Felix looked." in Rodrigue's POV. 
> 
> Further, I will describe Ingrid's POV and in her second scene I will go a bit into how her prejudices against the people of Duscur were formed, and how the propaganda previously mention in Dimitri's after Duscur chapter affected her. As such it includes the "justification" of the genocide of the people of Duscur, despite the fact that they are clearly victims. Please be careful if such topics are triggering to you.

Sylvain had been in Fhidiad to see off the royal party before they set out to Duscur. His father had wanted to have a last word with his majesty about the endeavor. Margrave Gautier did not approve of the weak approach the king took with their neighbor, fearing that Sreng would take advantage of a perceived weakness. But he did not hate the people of Duscur enough, and respected king Lambert too much, to truly object. 

For once, Sylvain was glad for his father’s obstinate nature. Miklan had been forced to stay behind in Gautier, and ‘put his aggression to good use’, while Sylvain got to say goodbye to his friends. He had seen them less often in the past months than he was used to, as his father had taken to getting him involved in the running of Gautier more and more. When his father had informed him that they would travel to the capital, he had been ecstatic, though it had quickly been dampened by the knowledge that he would not be allowed to travel to Duscur with Dimitri, Felix and- and Glenn. 

Sylvain would have liked to have seen the other country. He had seen some artwork from there in the markets of the capital, and he could not help but wonder how the people there lived. So he was maybe a bit jealous that he would not get to go as well. 

Fhirdiad was buzzing as it so often was when the King set out to travel. King Lambert was a popular king whose reforms had done much for the people in the city and the surrounding areas. Seeing him travel again, the people assumed he would bring them other good changes, and Sylvain hoped they were right. 

As the privileged son of Margrave Gautier and a known friend of the crown prince, no one stopped Sylvain when he broke off from his father’s party to find his friends. His father might not like Sylvain’s general attitude, but he valued political connections, so in this, he had always left Sylvain his freedom. 

As he made his way through the throngs of people, knights and servants and merchants keen to join the undertaking, he noted with some surprise that he could not spot the banners of house Galatea. Last Sylvain had heard, one of Ingrid’s brothers (was it Gunnar or Alwin? He wasn’t sure) had planned to join the king. And had promised to take Ingrid with him to Fhirdiad so they could all meet up before the party left. Without him, she would have to remain in Galatea. 

Felix and Dimitri were easy to find. Sylvain simply followed the trail of guards to Dimitri’s chambers and where he found them next to one of the prince’s half-packet travel chests. Grinning, Sylvain knocked against the doorframe, causing two heads to snap into his direction. They smiled when they spotted him, and Sylvain found his own grin turning into an honest smile as well. 

“Shouldn’t you be done with this already?” Sylvain asked teasingly. Most of the chests were already packed, but for some reason one of the chests was open with some of Dimitri’s clothes strewn around. He could only imagine how delighted the servants would be upon finding that their prince wasn’t ready to leave yet. 

“Sylvain!” Dimitri grinned at him. It’s my— it’s Lady Patricia’s birthday. And I left the gift behind.” the prince blushed, “She helped me pack, and I couldn’t smuggle it in without her noticing.”

Felix nodded next to him. “I’m helping him pack it into his stuff.”

Sylvain looked around the room and the clothes strewn around, before turning back to Felix with a teasing grin. “So helpful.”

Felix flushed in embarrassment, turned his face away and crossed his arms petulantly, he was also most definitely pouting. Sylvain noted Dimitri throwing his friend a fond look. 

“He was helping,” the prince assured Sylvain earnestly, “I couldn't just pack the gift on top of the chest, Lady Patricia will probably help me unpack to make sure I don’t crease all my clothes.”

Or rip them in an effort to straighten them out, Sylvain added mentally, he had seen that happen a number of times. 

“Well, I suppose that’s fair enough,” He conceded, not wanting to get Felix too worked up with his teasing and bring the fury of Glenn down on him. “Let’s finish then. I’m good at straightening out clothes,” he added with a wiggle of his brows. 

Both of his friend’s grimaced, though Dimitri tried to hide it, making Sylvain laugh.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Sadly, Sylvain did not actually get to spend much time with his friends, as the king’s party was set to leave in the afternoon. Margrave Gautier had come to have a last word and linked the visit with his journey to Rowe territory where they were going to negotiate some trading agreement. So after lunch, Dimitri and Felix went off to make sure their stuff was properly stored away, while Sylvain had to go bid his formal goodbye to the king.

Their original plan to meet up again in the courtyard so they could say goodbye properly, turned out to be a bad one. The yard was packed, and Sylvain chided himself for not anticipating this. Dimitri and Felix would be upset if they did not get to say goodbye, and Sylvain himself would hate to miss them as well.

He wished they were as tall as their father’s who he had spotted talking on one of the balconies. Sadly, as both of them were still pipsqueaks, it was all but impossible to find them in the crowd. Eventually, someone found him, however.

“Sylvain, what are you doing running around like a headless chicken?”

Sylvain stopped his—very dignified, thank you—search for his friends and faced the approaching figure. It was Glenn. The older boy was approaching him quickly armed and ready to go. Sylvain noted not without envy that Glenn looked good. Unlike Sylvain, who was still gangly with too-long limbs and awkward movement, Glenn was graceful and sure of himself.

“Glenn.” he greeted, and the other boy flashed him a cheerful smile. Sylvain had gotten used to seeing Glenn dressed in the formal armor of the Royal Guard, but he never got used to the way he wore his curly chin-length hair pinned back on one side with a fancy pin some women would kill for. Sylvain knew it had belonged to the late duchess. The contrast between the dutiful knight and fancy Glenn Fraldarius was strange. 

“Are you looking for the ducklings?”

Sylvain laughed at the nickname, he knew Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid hated, but Glenn insisted on using. 

“Yeah, we promised to meet up before you guys leave.” he shrugged, hiding his frown and pushing the chiding voice of his father from his mind. “I didn’t think the meeting place through.”

Glenn chuckled, “Yeah, you could have picked a better one.” Then he shook his head. “They are over there.” Glenn pointed towards the right, where one of the wheelhouses was ready to go. “With Lady Patricia’s wheelhouse.”

Sylvain flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glenn.” 

The older boy rolled his eyes and shrugged curly hair falling in his face and caressing along the high cheekbones. “Think nothing of it. Really. You know how Felix gets, and his highness can pout like a champion.”

Sylvain laughed, and Glenn smiled as well, a lopsided grin taking over his face, a teasing spark in his eyes. 

“That’s much better. Keep the smile, sunshine.”

For a moment, Sylvain just stopped.

The words jarred him. Made him straightened like even his father’s harshest glares didn’t manage. Sylvain opened his mouth to say something but no words passed his lips. Glenn had already turned away, one hand waving back over his shoulder in a lazy goodbye. Sylvain opened his mouth to call him back, because— 

The words. He knew those words.

_ Keep the smile, sunshine.  _

The reason Sylvain had started learning to read early. To hear them now… It made no sense.

Before he could make up his mind to either follow Glenn or call him back, someone else called his name.

“Sylvain! Sylvain, over here!” 

Another voice joined as well. “Sylvain, we are by the wheelhouse!”

Sylvain turned, still reeling to spot His friends by the wheelhouse, just like they said, just like  _ Glenn  _ had told him. Felix, probably with a lift from Dimitri, had climbed on top of the roof, and Lady Patricia was fluttering around trying to convince him to come down. 

If he looked closely he could spot Dimitri’s waving hands as well, every time the boy jumped to raise his hands over the crowd.

His feet carried him towards them without conscious thought and his lips moved. “I see you. I see you,” he said, knowing full well that they would not hear him over the din of the crowd.

By the time he reached them, Lady Patricia had bodily lifted Felix from the roof and put him back on the ground, leaving him standing next to Dimitri like a ruffled kitten. Dimitri seemed amused, and his grin was wide when he spotted Sylvain. “There you are!” he beamed and rushed over to his side, Felix at his heel. 

A call of ‘don’t go too far!’ from inside the wheelhouse, was answered with a cheerful “We won’t!”, but the prince's attention remained on Sylvain. 

Felix grinned at him too. “ We were worried you wouldn’t find us!” he exclaimed.

Sylvain hummed and made himself smile. “Really? How so? Any guard could tell me where his royal highness is!”

Though, he had not thought of that.

The younger boys nodded, appeased. “Alright,” Felix, who was a master at using guards to find Dimitri, said, “Then what took you so long?”

Sylvain hesitated a moment too long for his answer to be genuine. “I spotted a pretty face and got distracted.”

He got two unconvinced looks in return, and, uncharacteristically, he felt his smile faltering. The almost amusement of his friends turned into worry.

“What’s wrong?” Dimitri asked him, thoughtfully stepping closer to they would be harder to overhear, Felix following his cue and doing the same, pressing one shoulder against DIitri’s and one against Sylvain’s. His left side, the spot usually filled by Ingrid— _ Ingrid— _ remained empty. 

“I—” he cut himself off, unsure what to say under the worried gazed of his friends. “Don’t worry, I just had a thought.”

“Is it Miklan, again?” Dimitri asked a dark frown on his face. It made him look like the king during that one court session where he had had to strip one of the nobles of his titles and have him imprisoned.

“No.” Sylvain assured him, “No, nothing like that…”

“But bad?” Felix asked him. Sylvain hesitated, then shook his head still unsure. “I don’t know yet, maybe… maybe it’s good. I will have figured it out when you get back.”

The two of them exchanged a speaking look. 

“Alright.” Felix conceded, “But If you haven’t when we get back, you better tell.”

Sylvain nodded, but Dimitri did not let him get away that easily. “Promise?”

Sylvain paused. The topic wasn’t really one to talk about with people. It was intensely private, but since he could hardly talk to his father—or Sothis forbid his brother—his best friends were his best bet.

“I promise.”

Dimitri searched his gaze and apparently found what he was looking for because he smiled.

“Alight.”

Around them, the crowds shifted, and Sylvain could make out the King making his way through it, Lord Rodrigue at his heels. They would leave soon. 

Sylvain looked back to his friends, who had spotted the change as well.

“Take care, you two. Don’t cry too much, Felix, the reputation of Faerghus rests on your shoulders.”

“Ugh, Sylvain!” Felix exclaimed, flushing while Dimitri chuckled, putting an arm around his shoulder to keep Felix from trying to take a swipe at him. “See if I bring you a souvenir!”

Sylvain chuckled, and then laughed when Dimitri assured him that he would bring him a souvenir even if Felix didn’t. 

The king’s party left shortly after that, Glenn waved to him as he passed him as part of the column. Sylvain’s gaze followed him, unsure, and unmoored until he was out of sight. 

So. Soulmates. 

The last time Sylvain had looked at his soulmate mark—letters curling around his wrist—with anything like pleasure and pride, had been before he understood what people wanted from him. 

After that the words on his wrist:  _ Keep the smile, Sunshine _ , no longer brought him comfort and peace, instead they meant that whoever talked to him like that was just like everyone else. 

The words had been on his wrist for as long as he could remember, once, before he could read, he had asked Miklan to read them to him, only to find out that they were only visible to him. It had soured his relationship with Miklan further, because words—first words, or a name—were the most common identifiers for soulmates that house Gautier was gifted by the goddess (Miklan did not have them). The first words his soulmate would say to him, marked like his father and grandfather before him. 

Glenn saying them had to be a coincidence. Strange, yet without consequence. Glenn was important to him of course. He was a friend. The oldest Sylvain had. Someone he trusted. The one who had taken his hand and played with him back when the rest of their group were still too young to be left to their own devices. 

It had been nice to have Glenn say the words. To just for one moment think that his soulmate would not look at him, see his looks, see his wealth, see his crest, and flirt with him. 

That the words were honest, rather than flirtation. 

But only for a moment. Sylvain knew better. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

It was some days after the king’s party had left that Sylvain felt a stabbing pain in his wrist, making him violently jerk the reins of his horse and startling the poor thing. In the struggle to regain control of his horse, he forgot about the pain until he took off his gloves later that evening. He was reminded of it, however, when he came face to face with the faded words on his wrist. 

He did not need to consult the library or his father to know what it meant. 

(His father’s words looked just like this. And for all his faults—and his father had many of them—Marius Gautier had loved his wife. He had never attempted to hide them.)

His soulmate was dead. Sylvain stared at the words for a long time, a curious mixture of relief and disappointment swirling in his gut. He was glad that he would not meet his soulmate when they were flirting with him like he had always expected. He did not examine the disappointment. 

Then came the news from Fhirdiad: the king was dead. His party massacred on the fields of Duscur. 

Oh, Sylvain thought. Oh. 

(Last Words, not first words.)

He never told anyone about them, but there were there for the world to see, grey and dead curling around his wrists. A source of melancholy and comfort, a reminder of the first person who had looked at his brother, looked at him and told him it was not his fault. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Rodrigue’s life could generally be separated into a Before and an After. After Lambert died. After Duscur. After Glenn died. After Felix died. After— after all the colors disappeared from the world.

Technically, he supposed that there was a before the before as well. The before that ended the moment he was handed the second prince of the kingdom, the crown prince to be, a toddler of two years, and his mother praised his pretty blue eyes. Rodrigue had looked at him, curious, but not all that interested, met the eyes that he knew were blue, and for the first time saw.

From the moment he met those blue eyes—the first color he saw as color and not as the washed-out imitation that had made his mother frown with worry—Rodrigue had been spellbound.

Oh, he had thought, that’s how the world is supposed to look.

Decades later, the colors disappeared as quickly as they had come. One moment he was discussing the upcoming trade conference with his brother, and the next his world was black and white and grey. No longer were his brother’s eyes the same color as the ones he saw looking back at him from the mirror. 

Rodrigue lurched to his feet, blinking rapidly, his heart all but jumping from his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was still breathing. Startled, his brother got to his feet as well. “Rodrigue?” he asked.

Rodrigue stared at him, feeling as if he was floating, removed from his own body. Shock, the part of his mind that has studied healing informed him. “The king is dead,” he said, and his own words sounded foreign to his ears. The information he was relaying at odds with what he wanted to be true. 

The king was dead. His brother stared at him with wide horrified eyes.

“Rodrigue?”

“The king is dead.”

The king is dead, Rodrigue thought again. Lambert. Lambert is dead. And then: what about my sons?

He would never admit it to anyone ever again, not even to himself, but in those first hours after his world had gone gray, after his soulmate had died, Rodrigue had not prayed to be wrong. 

He had not prayed for it to be a mistake. 

He had prayed that it had been an accident. That Lambert had fallen off his horse. Choked on his food. Was struck by freak lightning.

Something, anything, that had been a danger to Lambert and Lambert alone. 

(A danger that Rodrigue could not have protected him, could not have protected  _ them _ , from.)

It hadn’t been. 

The news, ones they knew what to look for, came to them swiftly. The king’s party had been attacked in Duscur. Before Rodrigue could make official arrangements in the city that Lambert had entrusted to him in his absence, Gilbert had already set out with a small group. 

They all hoped against hope to find survivors. So did Rodrigue, but he knew that there was one person they would not find.

It was worse than Rodrigue could have prepared himself for.

The Prince lived, if just barely. He was the only one. Gilbert found him among mounts of corpses. (Corpses that included his sons.)

They did not bring back Glenn’s body. Only his armor dented and scorched. But they did bring back Felix’s body, though not by choice. 

“The prince did not let go of him until I swore to him I would take him along,” Gilbert told him, not meeting his eyes. It was the only thing the prince had said, the only sign of life except for the swallow breathing he had given. 

Dimitri lived. Glenn was dead.  _ Felix  _ was dead.

Did it make him a horrible father that the loss of Felix jarred him more?

Glenn had been a knight. Young, far too young to die, with his whole life ahead of him. But he had been an adult, if only just. Rodrigue had known the danger his son would live with from the moment he had sworn his knightly oath. 

Felix had been a child. A child that should have been  _ safe _ . 

When he insisted on seeing the body they tried to stop him. Cornelia and her cloying sympathy. Rufus, green around the grills. Gilbert, with steady surety. 

But Rodrigue would not be stopped. He braced himself for the sight of a broken body. For horrific burns, and open wounds, for blood and death.

He could not have braced himself for how  _ small  _ Felix looked. He seemed to only take up half of the bed’s length. 

They had put his body on one of the infirmary beds, still clad in the clothes he had worn when he had died. A white towel over his face. They had been fine clothes, fine, but practical, fitting for an active boy who could not sit still for long, now, they might as well be rags.

Burned and stained with blood it was hard to tell the original color. But worse were the legs where the clothes had somehow melted into the burned skin of his son’s leg. He could see part of the bone.

Rodrigue swallowed bile. Gilbert’s hand landed on his shoulder, intent on leading him out of the room again, but Rodrigue stepped forward. It would do him no good to turn his face away. This was the last he would see of his son, and if he had to remember him broken and dead, then he could at least acknowledge how he had died. 

Except for two stab wounds, only one of which looked like it had been made by an actual weapon and the spaces where the fire had crawled around him he was almost unmarked. Except for his shoulder, where his clothes had been disintegrated by something that had also branded his son’s skin. It took Rodrigue a moment to place from where he recognized the shape of it.

But it hit him like a hammer against full plate when Gilbert picked up something from the bedside. The Aegis Shield. The heroes Relic of House Fraldarius. Rodrigue had given it to Glenn, before the king’s party had left. It was supposed to have kept him safe. Now part of its design was branded into his son’s skin.

“He had this.” Gilbert’s voice sounded jarring in the heavy quietness of the room, as he hefted the shield higher. It remained inanimate in his hands, not shimmering and almost alive as it did in Rodrigue’s own hands. As it had in his son’s hands. “He shielded the prince with his own body. Like a knight.”

Rodrigue laughed, it did not sound natural. “He was no knight. He was a boy.” A boy far too young to die.

Gilbert paused for a moment. “He was brave.”

Was it bravery, Rodrigue wondered, or desperation? He knew the line was blurry at the best of times. 

A whisper of cloth behind him informed him that Cornelia had entered the room. For once the Court mage did not give a glip comment. It made sense, Rodrigue remembered, she had lost a dear friend in Lady Patricia (Queen Patricia), even if her grief seemed oddly insincere. But Rodrigue pushed those thoughts aside, for now, refocused on his son. He could not protect him, but he could at least remember.

He took a step closer to the bed and reached for the cloth over Felix’s head. Gilbert moved as if to stop him, but hampered as he was by the Aegis Shield (it was always heavier for those who did not share their blood), he was not fast enough. Rodrigue pulled the cloth aside. 

Cornelia made a noise of surprise. (It was genuine)

Rodrigue stared. This was—

Felix’s face was not unharmed—a bruise on his temple, and skid marks on his cheeks—but it was the blood on his face that was telling. Amber eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, bloody trails trailing form them like dried tear tracks. Felix had bled from his eyes. His nose. His ears. The white of his eyes was completely red, all blood vessels having burst. His gums were bloody and raw. 

Woodenly, Rodrigue grasped one of his son’s hands and lifted them up. Felix wasn’t wearing gloves. He turned it around so he could look at the fingertips, at the nails. Below the blood and dirt, he could still make out the burst blood vessels below the nails. 

“How exactly did he die?” He found himself asking because this— this was—

Gustave shifted uncomfortably before he cleared his throat. “He shielded, prince Dimitri.”

“Yes,” Rodrigue said, his voice sharper than intended, “So you said.”

He waited for Gustave to answer. Eventually, he got it.

“The healers who examined him… said it was crest burnout.”

Cornelia stepped closer to the bed, eyes curious, and intent. Rodrigue wanted to push her back, but there was nothing left of his son for him to protect. 

“It does look like it.” Her voice was dispassionate and analytical. “He bears all the signs of crest burnout, but crest burnouts… don’t kill.”

She looked from Gustave to Rodrigue.

“I do not have a crest, so correct me if I’m wrong.” she smiled, “But while crest burnout is painful and dangerous, I believe the body stops the user before they can destroy themselves… even under high-stress situations, at some point, it just won’t work anymore.”

Gustave nodded. “Crests only activate for short periods of time, and even those who manage to control it cannot hold it for long.” he paused, his gaze flickering to the Shield he had set aside, “Relicts make it easier to channel the crest, but even then they only work for short bursts.”

It was the truth. Rodrigue had seen it several times on the battlefields of Sreng, there was one difference. “The Shield is different.”

Cornelia and Gustave turned towards him, but he ignored them staring at Felix, staring at his son’s small childlike hand still in his own. “You can hold it for longer than short feats of power.”

Cornelia hummed. “That might explain how his case is so severe, but it should not have killed him. Especially… if what you said about the circumstance you found them in was true. The fire would have killed him, the smoke. No record says that even the Aegis shield is able to keep up a protection like that.” She sounded so curious, it made something in Rodrigue burn. “You said the shield was still glowing, that the blood was still fresh on the shield when you found them. But the user was dead.”

The user she said like Felix was some kind of subject of her research. 

In the silence of the room, Rodrigue could hear Gustave swallow. “Yes, he had been dead for a while, he must have powered the shield before he died.”

Cornelia hummed again, a sound Rodrigue hated. “No minor crest could power the shield for so long. There must be something else. What did you miss?”

He wondered why she was so interested in the specifics when it did not really matter. The prince lived, they should focus on that. The specifics were secondary. Felix was dead, and it wasn’t like the miracle could be recreated. 

“Ah,” Rodrigue said, absentmindedly, not taking his eyes away from the too-small body. Felix had made himself the prince’s shield, had pushed and pushed beyond all that was reasonable. Rodrigue was proud. Rodrigue was heartbroken. “But Felix did not have a minor crest.” 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Eventually, Dimitri woke from his coma. By the time he did, Gustave had fled with his tail between his legs. Renounced his title and disappeared to Sothis knows where leaving Rodrigue and Rufus to deal with the fallout.

Rodrigue was tired and miserable and all but ruling a kingdom on the knife's edge of further disaster. So, when he stopped into the sickroom of the prince, past the guards stationed at the door and closed it behind himself, he had not expected Dimitri to be awake.

For the first time since the colors faded from his world, Rodrigue felt like he could breathe. 

“Dimitri.”

The prince looked at him. He was wan and pale, with sweat on his forehead and he held himself like a person in pain. It did not stop Rodrigue from crossing the room, to have one of the hardest conversations of his life.

He had no idea how hard it would be. 

Dimitri was alive. Dimitri did not know what had happened. Dimitri believed Felix was still alive. 

_ You and Felix are still here. You and Felix are still here. You and Felix are still here. _

Over and over the words repeated in Rodrigue’s mind, would even hours later. He had not thought that there was anything of his heart left to break. But he could not bring himself to shatter the prince’s. Not directly at least. He tried to lead the prince to the revelation, and never spoke a direct lie. There had been moments when Rodrigue had though the Prince remembered how Felix had died, protecting him and covering him with his own body: his name was engraved on the memorial, but the prince did not see it. Felix’s clothes were removed from his room, but the prince did not notice. Felix never appeared in court, but the prince met him all the same. 

He would never be quite sure if it was a mistake. 

Through the years it became clear to him that the ghost of his son haunting the prince wasn’t a kind one. It did not think kindly of Rodrigue, and he wondered if the Prince subconsciously knew that he was only entertaining a lie, and as time passed it became abrasive to the prince as well. Abrasive but there, an anchor that Dimitri desperately needed. 

That did not mean that each time they spoke about Felix as if he could walk in at any moment, Rodrigue did not feel like he was spilling poison from his tongue and making his son curse him over and over. 

Felix would not have wanted him to lie to his beloved Dima. 

His son’s memory—another sacrifice for the good of the kingdom. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Ingrid had been ill when the tragedy of Ducur occurred, and she had learned about it in bits and pieces. It had been a nasty cold that had prevented her from traveling to Fhirdiad to bid goodbye to his majesty and his highness when they set out to Duscur. It had prevented her from saying goodbye to Glenn too, she had actually prepared an embroidered handkerchief for him at the urging of her grandmother and had wanted to present it to him. It was hardly good work, but Ingrid knew Glenn well enough to know that he would appreciate it all the same. 

Ingrid hated being ill, it left her feeling weak and useless and unable to do all the things she enjoyed. She could not even eat her favorite sweets because they made her sick. She hadn’t just been sick, she had also been upset. Dimitri and Sylvain had never been the most prolific letter writers, but Glenn and Felix at least had always written her, even if it was only one letter that the brothers had written together. To be sick and not get any of them made her feel forgotten. 

In her misery in isolation, it took her a long time to figure out that something was seriously wrong. The first clue she got was spotting a messenger rushing through the courtyard through her window, but no one would tell her where such an urgent message had come from. The next clue were the pale faces of her brother and father, with Alwin even showing traces of having cried despite trying to smile at her. Gunnar and Rupert left with some soldiers shortly after—to deal with bandits they said.

A black flag flew above the castle, and Ingrid feared that her Granny had died, but Granny came to visit her and clutched her hand tightly.

Ingrid recovered slowly, but by the time she was allowed to leave her room, she was all but convinced the kingdom was at war. 

Leaving her room was like walking into another world.

One maid spoke about the king regent. Another spat about the vile Ducur people. A servant spoke of the might of the kingdom extracting justice. 

Then she heard this: it was a miracle the prince had survived, the only one to escape the vile treachery of the people of Duscur.

By the time she made it to her father’s office, Ingrid was crying, partly in confusion, partly in fear. Her father took one look at her face and sight, he seemed to age ten years in the span of a heartbeat as he waved for her to take a seat. And he finally, finally told her the truth. 

She was too heartbroken to be angry with him. 

The King was dead. Glenn was dead. Felix was dead. Betrayed, murdered, slaughtered. 

Glenn, whom she wasn’t quite in love with, but whom she loved deeply. Who had smiled at her when she told him she wanted to be a knight and showed her how to hold a lance. 

Felix, whom she had known for as long as she could remember. The boy who had been put in front of her with the words. “He will be your little brother one day.” and who had always been just that.

Now they were both gone.

Ingrid felt suddenly very lost and very alone.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Her family traveled to Fhirdiad for the memorial service. There had not been individual funerals, and Ingrid had overheard people talking about how that was due to the fact that the bodies were all but unidentifiable. She tried not to think about Felix and Glenn, or Dimitri who had been in the middle of it. 

Ingrid had hoped to talk to him when they were in the capital, but it wasn’t to be. After they arrived, she heard that the prince had been injured severely, and had still not fully recovered. She also heard more of the sins of the people of Duscur and what had happened to them in retaliation. At first, Ingrid had been hesitant, but with each missing person at court and in the castle, after seeing the regent stand next to the empty throne where a smiling king used to sit, after seeing Lord Rodrigue’s drawn face—she felt only satisfaction. 

They arrived early for the memorial service. House Galatea was arranged at the back of the noble crowd. Her family was not important enough for special treatment, sometimes their father would bristle about it, but he had enough common decency and compassion not to make a fuss at an event like this.

When she spotted Dimitri arriving, flanked by both Lord Rodrgue and the Grand Duke, she was shocked by how different he looked. His hair was short, shorter then she had ever seen him wear it before, and he was paler and gaunter then her, even after her long illness. 

She watched as Dimitri made his way to the front of the crowd without looking to the side. Watched as he stared at the monument until eventually, he turned to Rodrigue shortly before turning back to the front.

Ingrid listened intently to the speeches, listened to the horrors that were recounted, and listened to the righteous retribution the kingdom had dealt in return. It would not bring the hundreds of people on the memorial stone back. 

In a lull of the speeches, or rather, when the bishop spoke, Ingrid spotted Sylvain, standing further to the front with his father and brother. The solemnity of their expression highlighting how much they all looked alike, Ingrid knew he would not like being told that. 

Eventually, the ceremony came to an end. People started to leave, but Ingrid stayed, hoping to at least present her personal apologies to Dimitri. It would not bring back the people they had lost, but it felt important to her all the same. After all, Ingrid did not just mourn abstract concepts of their countrymen, but people she had loved dearly. 

She did not get the chance. The prince lingered, but her father’s hand on her shoulder kept him from approaching. Ingrid’s heart arched. Dimitri looked terribly lonely standing in front of the memorial despite the presence of Lord Rodrigue at his side. 

Ingrid watched him as he stood there, even as the other nobles, including her father, left. She thought about approaching him again, but his presence did not invite company and Lord Rodrigue lingered at his side like a silent guardian. Ingrid wanted to draw him into a hug like her father and brothers did for her when she needed comfort. But Ingrid had never been the one who had been careless with the prince’s private space, neither had Sylvain. Felix had been, and Glenn too, to a lesser degree. 

Eventually, Dimitri seemed to snap out of his thoughts, he turned to the right and nodded slightly, probably in return to something Lord Rodrigue had said. Ingrid watched as his shoulders tensed. Any moment he would turn around. Any moment she would catch his eye, any moment she would greet him with a smile. It might not be the most joyful smile, but it would be honest. Because Ingrid was so, so glad that Dimitri at least still lived. 

Then the prince turned. 

Now, she thought. But it wasn’t to be.

As Dimitri left, he did not look to the left or right, did not notice Ingrid’s hesitant attempts to catch his eyes, or her shuffling steps forward. He simply left. Lord Rodrigue caught her gaze and gave her a painful smile, but he did not stop to talk to her, choosing instead to stick to Dimitri.

Ingrid watched them walk away. The sight of Dimitri back, shoulders slumped, and walking away would linger in her memory for a long time. 

She remained in the courtyard for a moment longer, hesitant to actually step closer to the memorial. Knights died in the service of the country, but this felt different. Ingrid did not allow it to stop her. She owned it to the memory of Glenn and Felix to pay them this last respect.

With slow steps she made her way over to the tall stone, startling when another pair of steps, much quicker caught up to her from behind.

Ingrid turned and came face to face with Sylvain. He looked like he had not slept in a long time.

“Ingrid.” he greeted her, voice heavy. Ingrid nodded in return. “Sylvain.”

Together they walked up to the memorial stone. Together they read the names, one after another. Together they saw the names of their friends etched in stone. 

In a way, reading Felix’s name in the stone, gone forever, felt like the moment her childhood, and the innocent bliss that came with it, ended. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

To Dedue, Felix Fraldarius had always been a mystery. He knew that the other noble was a dear friend of his Highness and a great source of comfort. A childhood friend, whom he had known for all his life. The son of Lord Rodrigue, the one noble Dedue was almost certain had only his Highness’s best interest in mind. Yet, even as weeks turned into months, he did not meet him.

He knew, from his Highness’s tales that the other boy was in Fhirdiad from time to time. He knew from snippets of rumors at court that Lord Rodrigue had lost family in Duscur, so Felix probably had as well. He remembered only too keenly the vitriol in Lady Galatea's eyes when faced with Dedue. Lord Rodrigue did not resent him, but who was to say that his son felt the same?

“I’m sure Felix does not hate you.” Prince Dimitri assured him the one time he brought the matter up. “I… I don’t know why you have not met him yet, but Felix is not like that.”

His Highness had sounded very sure, and Dedue hoped that he was right, if only for his highness’s sake. Dedue could understand the hate of the people of Faerghus, and he returned it in kind, but he did not want Prince Dimitri to lose the support and stability he found in his friend over an argument like that.

Even if Felix Fraldarius hated him, so long as he remained an ally to his highness, Dedue would have no quarrel with him. 

His opinion changed just a bit, after their visit to Fraldarius. For the first time since the massacre of his people Dedue looked upon a place in the kingdom and thought it beautiful. Fraldarius, despite its closeness to the capital, was very different from Fhirdiad. And not only the landscape, but the people as well.

The welcome Dedue received was reserved but genuine. He was given a guest room that was obviously meant for a noble, but no one blinked an eye at Dedue being assigned the room. 

Castle Fraldarius was beautiful and the people were kind, but there was a heavy sadness lingering over it that made Dedue uncomfortable, and as the days of their visit passed, more and more did he feel like he understood why. 

“It is good to have children in the castle again.” One servant informed him, cheerfully as she busted around the room and insisted on Dedue sitting down and not assisting her as he was a guest and she would not have it. 

“The Prince has not been here for a while.” another said as he showed Dedue the way to the kitchen, “but he has gotten a lot taller, Lord Felix would have been devastated, he always disliked being the shortest.”

They ate dinner with the Duke, but his son and heir was absent. The Duke made no excuses, but as his highness spoke about his conversations with his friend there was a pain in the man’s eyes that sent a shiver down Dedue’s spine. 

There was an image beginning to form in his mind, and Dedue did not like one bit. It worried him, and the more time passed, the more small cues he noted. His Highness spoke about how he had talked to Felix at an event, yet Dedue had not seen anyone resembling Lord Rodrigue talk to him. His highness talked about how he had sparred with his friend, yet Dedue only heard knight’s talking about the prince’s dedication to drills. 

It was after his Highness’s sixteenth birthday celebration that Dedue decided to make his suspicion a certainty. He prayed both to the gods of his people and Fodlan’s goddess that he was wrong.

For a moment he had thought about talking to Lord Rodrigue directly. The duke had given him no cause to make him think he would lie, but it seemed like a cruel subject to broach, no matter if his suspicions were right or not.

Thankfully, he spotted another person who hopefully could answer him without posing a danger to his highness. Sylvain Gautier was in attendance for the prince’s birthday. Dedue had seen him and his highness interact previously, and while he had heard plenty of rumors about the man—few of them flattering—his friendship with the prince at least seemed genuine. 

So, on the morning after the ball, he sought him out. He had expected to wait for Sylvain to wake late and had already prepared an explanation for his absence at his Highness’s side, only to be pleasantly surprised when he spotted the noble up and about early in the morning.

“Lord Sylvain.” Dedue greeted the redhead who started and whirled around. The Margrave's heir smiled as soon as his eyes landed on Dedue. It was a practiced and routine expression, all the nobles in Fhirdiad seemed to have at least two of them, even his highness. In a way, it was reassuring to have it directed at him, it was those that did not bother to hide their disdain for him behind civility that seemed to make the most trouble for his highness over Dedue’s presence. The others simply ignored him. 

“Just Sylvain is fine.” the other insisted, and Dedue was surprised by the genuinity behind the offer, he inclined his head.

“Sylvain, then.”

That got him a smile. Careful and searching but without the accusation, disgust, or genuine hatred Dedue had gotten used to from nobles in Fhirdiad. 

“What can I do for you…” he saw the other man hesitate, likely searching for his name. Dedue wasn’t offended, but before he could offer it, he was surprised again. “Dedue? It was Dedue, right? I think that’s what his Highness wrote.”

Dedue nodded and did not fight the slight smile that found its way onto his face at the care the prince once again showed him. 

“Felix Fraldarius.” he did not need to say more than that. Sylvain’s face changed immediately, old pain flashing across it before it shuttered. “Can you tell me who he is?”

Sylvain’s eyes flickered over his face, cataloging his expression, his lips pressed tightly together.

“What brought this on?”

Dedue did not hesitate. “His highness speaks of him often, yet I have not met him.”

Sylvain sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Any you won’t,” he said sadly, then after a beat. ”I believe it will be easier to show you.”

Sylvain turned away from him and gestured for him to follow. The further they walked, the surer Dedue became that his suspicion was true. 

They walked all the way to the yard where the memorial stone was. It was a place Dedue generally avoided, not only because he knew the nobles would not like to see him there, but also because it pained him to think about his own people, whose bodies littered the ground of their home, forgotten and abandoned. The injustice they had been dealt brushed aside. 

Yet, he did not hesitate to follow Sylvain, who made the track with the surety of a man who had walked the same way many times. They walked straight up to the memorial stone. It was the first time Dedue had taken a look at it, and he was surprised by the number of names on it. Far fewer of course then the victims of Duscur, but more than he would have expected. 

Sylvain raised his hand and pointed to a name somewhere in the middle of the stone.

There it was. 

_ Felix Hugo Fraldarius. _

Dedue let out a deep breath through his nose.

“You are not surprised,” Sylvain noted. He voiced it as a statement, but the question was implied. 

“No.” Dedue agreed evenly. “I am not.” he turned his gaze away from the stone and found himself hesitating. “How did he die?”

Pain appeared on Slyvain’s face again, and this time the redhead did not try to hide it. His eyes wandered from Dedue to the stone and his finger rose to trace first the name of Glenn Fraldarius, then that of Felix.

“In the attack.” was the answer he eventually received, but they both knew that it was not what he had asked. Dedue waited patiently after all Sylvain had answered, rather than ignored his question.

“My father did not tell me the specifics, but he died protecting Dimitri.” Sylvain sounded sad as he said it, sad but absentminded. “But from the letters...I suspected that his highness…”

He trailed off. 

“Why are you asking now?”

Dedue considered his answer carefully. “For the longest time I thought  _ he _ ,” because it was awkward to talk personally about a dead man—boy really—that he had never met, “was alive, but did not wish to meet me. But after our visit to Fraldarius, and my own observations… I began to suspect...”

Sylvain chuckled. “Fair enough. If… he was still around you would have met him. Felix is— wasn’t the type to avoid problems.”

Dedue paused. Considered what his highness had told him about his friend. Kind, and always there for him. Driven and interested in training, and so very, very dear. “Was he like Duke Fraldarius?”

That got him laughter, honest, and seemingly out of place in this place. “No,” Sylvain said, smiling. “No, he really wasn’t.”

And then he told Dedue about the boy whose memory haunted the Prince.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More outsider POV, this time during the game events. More about Felix than Dimitri this time. The last scene is Rodrigue's POV on Gronder, so there is character death.

Byleth had never considered herself fit to be a teacher, and even less so the instructor of nobles at a prestigious academy. Yet, for some reason, that was what the archbishop wanted her to be—wanted her to pick a class to teach even. Byleth had no idea what to do, so she followed along with the suggestions and tried to take a look at the students.

She wasn’t good with people. They had always shied away from her, or, in the case of her father’s mercenaries, had been so much older.

The students weren’t, they were almost her age. Somehow, the thought made the whole matter even more awkward, despite Sothis’ attempts to soothe her. 

She had talked to most of the students, walking through the monastery and passing by the classrooms. In a way, the house leaders had been quite helpful, telling her about each of their classmates, evidently aware of what she was doing. She had seen the caution in their gazes, the calculation, the worry. Yet, they had complied.

Byleth walked past the student dormitories and caught the eye of a light-haired man wearing a mask. He gave her a careful once-over but walked passed her without another word. Was he a student? An off duty knight? An instructor who should have taken her place?

Eventually, she reached her last destination: The training ground. 

Dimitri had told her she would likely find one of his classmates here. An old friend of the prince, a noble from a family whose name even Byleth, who had never bothered with such matters, had heard about. You did not live in Fodlan without knowing of house Fraldarius.

She spotted Felix Fraldarius as soon as she stepped through the heavy doors of the training ground. He was going through the forms of a basic kingdom sword form. It was easy to see that he was diligent in his training, his movements were without pause, flowing smoothly from one stance into the next.

Yet, there was something that was off about the image of him. If she were anyone else, Byleth would have been frowning. She felt Sothis stir in the back of her mind.

Felix Fraldarius’s feet made no sound as he moved across the training yard. Then, as the kata made him turn, he stopped when he saw her and their eyes met. Neither of them said anything. They simply stood in silence. Eventually, she turned away. 

“That boy,” Sothis said in her head, intently and suddenly very much present, “He is dead.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

When the opening ceremony for the new academic year took place, Flayn stood between the pews of the church and watched the new students. She had overheard her father—her brother, she had to remember—and Rhea talk about all the nobles attending. Especially the three very important heirs. Flayn was curious about them. After her sleep, she had been so very out of touch with the world around her that she found it difficult to orient herself. 

Focusing on something specific was helping her a lot so far.

All three heirs seemed interesting, at least from her first impression, but to her surprise, they weren’t the ones that drew her attention. Instead, it was a boy who was standing hidden at the back of the crowd, almost like Flayn herself was. He wasn’t paying attention to the people around him, or even to what Rhea was saying instead he was watching the prince of the kingdom with a frown on his face. She didn’t know what about him had drawn her gaze, but looking at him sent a tingle of something other down her spine.

Flayn gazed back to the front and listened to Rhea’s speech for a moment. They were always very moving and had always been, even back then. Her fa— brother, stood to the side, listening keenly and for once not paying her attention. Flayn looked back towards the boy and found him walking out of the church.

Eyes widening in surprise she looked around, but no one else seemed to notice his rude departure. Flayn itched to follow him but knew that whatever marvelous magic the boy had to be employing she did not know it, and the kind of attention her departure would draw was one she knew to avoid. 

Instead, she decided to ask Seteth and Rhea later, because while the students hadn’t seemed to notice the boy leave, her father’s frown and the slight tilt to Rhea’s smile indicated that they had. 

She got her answers but found herself not liking them all that much. Flayn had never been a friend of tragedies. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

It was not the mystery of Felix Fraldarius alone that made Byleth choose the Blue Lion House, but she wouldn’t lie if she claimed that it played no part in it.

In his Introduction, Prince Dimitri had referred to him as a close childhood friend. He had said that Felix was quite sharp-tongued and took his training very seriously. He had said Felix had a very kind heart, his eyes warm with a fondness that almost chased away the darkness in his eyes. It had been different from the fondness he had for his other childhood friends and his classmates. Then, Byleth had wondered what their relationship was. Mercenaries cared little about who you bedded, but nobles had the obligation to carry on the family line. 

Seeing Felix in the training yard… had painted a whole other picture.

Byleth found that she liked the boy, though it took her a while to actually approach him. First, she had asked around.

Ingrid had said: “Felix was his highness’s best friend, and he died some years ago. They grew up together from the cradle. His highness must miss him terribly.” She made no mention of the fact that the prince still talked of him like he was alive. 

“Why?” Sylvain asked her, something venomous in his tone that had taken her aback, contrary as it was to his usual smiling mask, “Why does everyone ask me? Felix is dead. The only one who hasn’t realized it yet is his highness.” and he had walked away. (Later she realized that it was close to the anniversary of the tragedy.)

Dedue had informed her that it was his highness’s business and she need not concern herself with it, but she had seen the worry in his eyes.

The other had had nothing to say. None of them had met the late second son of house Fraldarius. 

In the end, she approached Felix himself. He had lingered in the classroom after the other’s had left, studying the positions she had drawn on the blackboard and paid no attention to her. 

“Felix?”

Never before had she seen a person startle like Felix did. The young man whirled on his feet to face her eyes wide and just stared for a long moment. Byleth had never minded silence, so she waited for him to gather himself. 

“You…” he sounded all but incredulous. “You can actually see me. I didn’t imagine it.”

Slowly, Byleth nodded. “Yes.” She considered her words, aware that this could not be an easy topic. “You are dead.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It wasn’t joyful, but there was genuine humor in his voice all the same. “Yes.” a snort, “How refreshing for someone to actually acknowledge that.”

As he spoke, the humor faded from his eyes, and instead, he looked at her calmly, if a bit sadly. “What do you want?”

She had wanted to sate her curiosity.

“Why are you around?”

Felix’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He searched her face and eventually looked away. She did not get an answer, but his shoulder slumped. 

Sothis hummed in the back of her mind. “Watch carefully,” the girl said. “You should be able to see the connection between them.”

Byleth did not understand what she meant, but she watched Felix all the same.

“I made a promise,” he said and it was the only answer he would give her. He nodded at her before walking away. She had a feeling that he was telling the truth, but that there was more to it. Sothis too, would not elaborate. 

After that talk, however, they started to interact more. At first, it was Felix approaching her. Sometimes only for short conversations, asking her about her past as a mercenary, or talking about swords. Byleth wondered if he was starved for human interaction. She had never missed it, even if she found herself greatly enjoying all the new experiences and interactions with people. Before, she had occasionally felt a pang of something she had not been able to name, but now, she wondered if it hadn't been loneliness. Her father had often worried that she was lonely, but she had not understood.

Was Felix lonely? 

She saw him interact with Dimitri. With Flayn, once. 

Byleth herself talked to Felix. Offered to watch his training and found herself sparring with him. Invited him to tea to which he grudgingly agreed. Ate with him and Dimitri, and wondered why Dimitri could see him. And each time she asked Sothis, who seemed to know, she only got a scoff in return.

Having an almost student who was a ghost was strange and heartbreaking at the same time. More so, because Felix quickly became someone—maybe the first someone—she came to consider a friend. He wasn’t quite her student, but he was part of her class, if only by Dimitri’s insistence on it and his presence around his classmates.

Through talking to him she learned that he liked listening to Annette sing, thought Mercedes spent too much time taking care of others and not herself and believed Ashe would not like the realities of knighthood. That he did not like Dedue and tried to avoid Sylvain and Ingrid. 

And above all, he worried for Dimitri. He was sharp about it, sometimes unkind, but it was as much part of him as the keen gaze and dark hair. 

Felix could no longer eat and drink, but he could still smell the tea. Byleth did not mind drinking Four Spices or Almyran Pine Needle tea for him and sitting in silence. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Felix Fraldarius turned out to be a terribly interesting person, despite his unfortunate status of being dead. He had been terribly startled when Flayne had approached him while the other Blue Lions—because he was from Faeghus of course, Fraldarius did mean something to her after all—were in class. Though instead of being offended by her curiosity, he seemed mostly curious about why and how she could see him. Flayn hadn’t answered him yet, and so far he had not pressed her beyond the occasional probing question.

Despite his scowling mien, Felix was very kind and did not mind Flayn’s awkwardness. She even managed to cook something halfway decent for her brother under his supervision! It might have been a simple meat skewer, but the sheer look of surprise on her brother’s face had been worth it. 

Sadly, he was not around all that much. Despite being visible to Prince Dimitri and the Professor only, he always accompanied them on their missions. Flayn had not really minded as he often told her about them, angrily and with the great frustration that came from being unable to interfere. He would complain about them and inadvertently tell her about the world she could not explore herself.

There was only one time when she wished that he did not go with his classmates: When the Death Knight took her. 

When Flayn woke up panicking and unable to move, and with her last memory being one of her vision blackening around the edges, she found herself lying on the ground of a dark dungeon cell.

It had been a long time since Flayn had last been in a dungeon, and it was not something she had particularly missed. Her limbs were heavy, and, after forcing herself to move as much as she could, she realized that she was also bound.

Heavy chains inscribed with old runes wrapped around her limbs. Flayn knew those runes. Her breath came faster.

Then she heard footsteps echoing through the corridors. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a mage with a familiar sigil stitched onto his clothing. Panic clawed at the back of her throat and Flayn called upon all but forgotten lessons to calm herself. It worked only insofar that her captors did not realize that she was awake and allowed her to listen to them. It did not help her get her freedom. 

“A full-blooded one?” The mage was holding up a vial with what Flayn, with a sickening lurch of her stomach, was forced to conclude was her own blood. “Thales will be pleased. We assumed she was a halfbreed that had come to serve that wrench Seiros.”

Another mage chuckled. “What do you think he wants with her? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply bleed her dry?”

The first one clicked his tongue. ”Who knows, but I suppose it has been a long time since our people got their hand on fresh stock. No need to waste it.”

In and out. In and out. In and out. Like Marcuil had taught her, back when she stepped on the battlefield for the first time. In and out. In and out.

The mage spoke again, but this time he directed it at someone else. “Good job, Death Knight.”

The Death Knight. The one who had been part of the attempted theft on the holy mausoleum. 

Heavy steps made their way across the ground. A deep rattling breath echoed from the armored figure. Flayn had heard it before, right before she had been taken. She was unable to stop the shiver that went through her at the memory, but thankfully, her return to consciousness remained unnoticed. 

“I have no interest in your praise.” Never before had a figure sounded so menacing to her. Not even Nemesis in ages past. The mages at least—Agarthans, and she would have to tell her brother and Rhea that they were involved in this—seemed to share her fear. They left soon after, to report to someone named Solon. Was it weak of her to wish them back? If only so she wasn’t alone with the walking nightmare?

The Death Knight paced in the room, back and forth, back and forth. Flayn struggled to keep her breathing steady, unwilling to draw attention herself.

Eventually, the pacing stopped and a menacing chuckle echoed through the room. “Here they come. Like rats to the slaughter.”

It took Flayn a moment longer to figure out what he was talking about, but then she heard the distant sounds of people moving. The Death Knight left the room, leaving her behind, tension and anticipation clinging to him, like a beast seeking blood. 

Alone in the room, Flayn started to struggle in earnest. The chains were tight, but this might be the only chance she could get.

It didn’t work. Whatever it was that they had given her, it still lingered inside her body, and aside from that, the chains prevented her from using magic. She could hardly feel the magic inside of herself, even her crest felt far beyond her reach. 

She didn’t know if she had ever been in a situation that seemed this helpless: unable to move, lying facedown on the ground, and with no idea where she was.

Tears burned on the back of her eyes, but she forcefully blinked them away, and instead, she considered if she could crawl her way forward like a worm. It might not be enough to escape, but if she could hide, if only until the drugs wore off or she could think of a plan.

The rough stone scratched at her bare shins—the tights long since ripped and not giving her any protection—but Flayn dug her chin into the ground and pulled.

The burn of her skin being rubbed raw was grounding and, if nothing else, gave her an excuse for the tears.

She was so focused on making her way forward—the opposite direction from the one the Death Knight had gone—that the hand landing on her back almost made her scream. Flayn managed to bite it back, turn it into a mix of a gurgling groan and a whimper, but the spike of adrenaline left her shaking all over. 

She pressed her eyes tightly shut and hoped and prayed that whoever had noticed her escape would not—

“Calm.” a voice rang out behind her. The hand on her back, light and in no way restraining, lost it’s threatening quality.

She did not manage to hold back the sob that was forced out of her. Flayn knew that voice. 

“Felix.” She whimpered, relief making her head swim. 

His hand went from her back to her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. Reassuring, by his presence, even if there was little he could do.

“Come on.” he said, “I’ll help you turn around.”

Flayn nodded, and this time she flinched when her chin dragged along the ground. 

Touching Felix was difficult at the best of times, but the chains that limited her innate power made it even more difficult. He kept reaching through her, and he was unable to simply turn her and lift her around.

Still, they made progress, and as he helped her, Felix talked, his voice steady and factual.

“Professor Manuela noticed something was amiss with Jeritza and confronted him. She was injured, but the boar took her to the infirmary.” he snorted, and carefully, shifted the chains around her so they would not press into her back so painfully, “His strength is good for something, after all. The rest are coming for you.”

Flayn listened and felt herself calm at the steady stream of complaints and observations. As always Prince Dimitri—and his lack of care for himself—was at the forefront of it. From his words, she learned that Professor Byleth was leading the group making their way through the dungeon. Most of the people with her were from the blue lion house, but there were Linhardt and Ferdinand from the Black Eagles, and Marianne of the Golden Deer, apparently the latter two had been in the stables and heard professor Manuela scream.

Felix stayed next to her as the sound of fighting grew louder. Flayn could make out the sound of swords clashing, and the occasional thumb of a body hitting the floor. They were coming closer.

His hand a steadying touch against her neck. And for the first time since she had met him, Flayn was glad that Felix was dead. It was a terrible thing to think, but she knew that if he was alive, he would not have been at her side now. 

Eventually, the sounds of fighting ceased. The death Knight’s dark laughter echoed around them again, and another voice, commanding and sharp and just as echoing spoke through the silence. The Professor said something in return, but it was too faint for Flayn to hear.

“It’ll be over soon,” Felix told her, and he was right. Only moments later Professor Byleth and her students walked into the room where Flayn was being held. Flayn smiled when the blue eyes flickered from Felix to her, and relief made the professor’s shoulders sag slightly.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Byleth’s father was dead.

It seemed a concept that she could barely grasp. Watching him die—twice at that—had broken something inside of her that she knew no name for. She hid in her room and avoided people. Some of them knocked at her door and brought her food. Alois especially came by almost every day before he was sent out. But none of them breached her privacy, except for Felix. 

One day when she was sitting on her bed, staring at the wall, he simply walked through the door of her room. He had a displeased look on his face as if he resented having to act like the ghost he was. Byleth turned to regard him, but otherwise showed no reaction to his presence.

Felix was uncomfortable, she could tell, but did not care. After a moment of looking at him, she turned her face away. 

Felix didn’t leave her. Instead, he stepped further into the room and took a seat on the edge of her bed. He did not talk, and Byleth did not know why the presence of another person was calming. She could hear him breathe, even knowing that he did not need to do so. 

They sat together in silence for a long time, eventually, Byleth found herself breaking the silence. 

“... What is it like to die?” had she died before, Byleth wondered, on that day in Remire when she took the blow for Edelgard? She wasn’t sure. The pain had only been there for an instant before she found herself before Sothis’ throne. Maybe she had simply been on the edge of death.

Her father, however, was dead for sure, and she hadn’t been able to do anything at all. What good was her power if she couldn’t even save him?

Felix simply looked at her, for once, not trying to avoid her gaze. He looked younger, almost vulnerable, with the sharp edge washed away. If she wasn’t so numb, she would probably have felt guilty. Instead, she only watched as he gathered himself trying to find the words to answer her question. 

“Painful.” the smile he eventually mustered alongside his answer was wry. “But that might just be the way I died.”

He took a deep breath, still not looking at her. “Being dead is easy… It’s the living that are the hard part of this… but then, I don’t think most dead people stick around.”

The almost question hung between them, and Byleth answered him to the best of her ability. “I think you are the only dead person I met so far.”

Felix hummed and nodded, Byleth would call the expression on his face relief, if not for the anguish that he could not quite hide. Over the course of her stay in the academy, she had found that she liked helping people, and usually, the expression on his face would have prompted her to inquire further, but she was too tired and wrung out to consider it. 

“Why are you around?” She asked him again. She did not ask him why he was around when both her father and her mother weren’t. Something told her the answer wasn’t as easy as that. The revelation that Felix remembered her uses of the divine pulse made it all the more obvious. The last time he had told her that he had made a promise and by now she was fairly sure that it was a promise to Dimitri, one of the few people who could see him, and the only one who seemed to cling to the idea that Felix was still alive. Did in fact, not realize that Felix was dead, not even when faced with Lord Rodrigue’s pained smile.

Would people have told her that her father was dead if she could still see him? Would she have realized it? (Was Sothis another ghost-like Felix?)

“I made a promise.” Felix's answer remained the same, but this time he elaborated further. “I cannot leave yet. Not when he still needs me, not when he… still hasn’t moved on.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

When Byleth-and-Sothis stepped out from the place beyond and gazed at her students she understood what Sothis had been telling her. The reason Felix remained. Soulmates. A blessing or a curse of the goddess. It was not Felix who made himself stay, but Dimitri.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Rodrigue had barely had time to pick apart the rumors and reports he got about the attack on Garreg Mach before the Prince and some of his classmates arrived at his castle. Rodrigue met them in the courtyard, only minutes after they had been spotted by one of the guards on duty. He was dismayed to see the state of them. The group looked hunted and bedraggled, hardly dressed for the journey through the difficult territory surrounding the monastery, especially since they would have had to have avoided the main roads.

They had one horse between the four of them, and he hoped that their reduced number was due to a split in their traveling destinations and not something more final. Gilbert’s daughter, the late Lord Lonato’s son, as well as Ingrid, were missing. 

“Your Highness,” Rodrigue greeted the prince as he made his way over to them. “I am glad to see all of you save.”

His words got him some tired smiles from the prince’s companions, but Dimitri’s face remained stony. There was a wild—almost feral—look in his eyes. As if he was barely holding it together. It was a look Rodrigue had never seen on him before, but a look he knew all the same.

He had seen it on Queen Lavina’s face once as a child, on Rufus’, on Lambert’s before they marched on Sreng. Never had that look seemed as dangerous as it did on Dimitri’s face. 

“We need to prepare for war.” The prince said curtly, his gaze looking beyond Rodrigue. The emotion in his eyes and the tone of his voice raised disquiet in Rodrigue’s heart. The prince seemed beside himself. 

Rodrigue chanced a look over the prince’s shoulder, Dedue’s face was expressionless, the young lady looked worried, but Sylvain met his gaze with a somber look and shook his head slightly. 

“Of course.” Rodrigue found himself saying. “The empire has sent declarations… and a manifesto… your Highness, I have read it—”

The prince cut him off.

“She is in league with the people, behind Remire… behind Duscur.”

The words Rodrigue had meant to say—and for all that Emperor Edelgard sounded like a child striking out and attempting to consolidate her power, and her imperial ambitions, she had raised points that bore consideration—died on his tongue, leaving behind the taste of ash and fire. A dented and half-melted armor, a child’s broken body.

“Fraldarius will stand with you.”

Something about his tone snapped Dimitri back to himself. The boy’s eyes went wide, and he looked younger. Behind him, the other students straightened as well. 

“Thank you.” The prince said, sounding more like himself. “We need to send warnings to the western Lords… She will not stop her rampage at the monastery alone.”

Rodrigue only nodded, disregarding for now that the emperor had already sent formal declarations of war and that the northern lords were already preparing. Word from their prince would only bolster their morale. 

“Is this all of your party?”

“Yes.” It was Sylvain who answered him, ”The others went home… and the Professor is gone.”

Rodrigue thought of the young woman with her calm mannerism and her hesitant smile. Another death that came far too early. By this point, he should be used to it, he was sure that with a war on their doorsteps the number of deaths would only increase. 

“I see.” Rodrigue found himself staying. “I will have rooms prepared for you. You should rest up before making any further plans.”

The prince made to argue, but Rodrigue dared to silence him with a look. “I will send out messages. Both Rufus and Marius will need to be informed.” Sylvain grimaced at the mention of his father but said nothing. Dimitri still looked unhappy.

“I will ensure that you can return to the capital as soon as possible, your highness and that preparations for your formal ascension can be made.”

The prince grimaced but nodded.

“...Thank you.”

Rodrigue did as he had told them, keeping busy for the sake of being busy. While the students hopefully got some sleep—this had to be the first safe space they were in since the monastery had fallen—Rodrigue got to work.

Arranging a suitable escort for his highness took priority, as soon as he had sent out the messages. He had a feeling that if he did not arrange matters fast enough, the prince would leave as soon as he rose in the morning, no matter how foolish such a choice might be. 

All the while, there was a sinking feeling in his gut and unease that only got stronger with every moment. When he saw the prince and his escort off in the morning, he had not slept a wink.

Unfortunately, his unease turned out to be justified. Only days later news from Fhirdiad arrived. Rufus was dead, the prince accused of murder, and the lady Cornelia had taken it upon herself to restore order.

Rodrigue tried. He argued, he persuaded, he threatened, but —

The prince was dead. Executed.

A chasm of despair seemed to swallow him whole. Colors had long been gone from his world, but when the news came, it felt like the air had vanished as well. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

It would not be wrong to say that Byleth had spent the last five years sleeping like the dead. She woke from what felt like a short nap, tired still, with exhaustion weighing her down, and found that the world had changed. The once prosperous areas surrounding Garreg Mach were ravaged by war; towns burned to the ground and citizens either dead or fled.

Even the monastery itself had been desecrated. The traces of battle were clear even after five years were supposed to have passed. 

She made her way through the monastery slowly and carefully, aware that an ambush could be waiting for her. Eventually, Byleth found traces of more recent battles: Corpses. Dome bandits, some imperial soldiers. She followed the trail of them through the monastery and into the cathedral. It was empty.

Byleth stepped first onto the left balcony but found no traces of life, so she made her way around to the other side entrance. There was no life here either, but at the bottom of the goddess tower, she could spot a fresh corpse. Pulling her sword free, she climbed the steps upstairs, avoiding the bodies littering the stairway and trying to keep all noise to the minimum. When stopped onto the upper landing, she realized she needn’t have bothered.

Dimitri was sitting directly across from her, out of the early morning light spilling through the open door. Byleth would not have recognized him, if not for the presence of Felix at his side—flickering and drawn and looking so exhausted that Byleth wanted to pull him close—who was looking at her with wide eyes.

Byleth sheathed her swords and crossed the room. She caught the look of alarm Felix threw at Dimitri but did not let it stop her.

The prince of Faerghus raised his head and looked at her. And even as she reached out her hand for him, the sight of his eyes empty and haunted, and so much worse than the unbridled rage that had been in them before the attack, broke her heart.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri had changed, and she worried about him. Worried even more when she realized that he had spent the last five years on the run, that he had almost died when she had been sleeping. 

The realization of how much time she had lost scared Byleth. Even as her heart filled with joy at the sight of most of her students returning alive and well, the sight of them, and the changes in them, only drove the realization home more and more. 

But Dedue was dead, and Byleth had no way of saving him. She was unspeakably glad that only one of her students had died in the five years she had missed. The thought of it alone made her feel sick. Dedue had deserved so much more. 

Sylvain was tired and drawn, his smile no longer quite hiding the frayed edges. He had lit up in relief at the sight of Dimitri, but the changes in the prince seemed to sap him of even more strength, even as he kept up the good cheer. Ingrid looked almost sickly. Thinner then she had been before, with features that were just a bit too sharp. Her eyes tracked Dimitri wherever he went with the desperation of a woman at the end of her tether. 

Ashe seemed to be doing well, though his boundless enthusiasm, that had somehow even survived the loss of his foster father, seemed to have been tramped down a bit. Annette’s smile had a bite to it that hadn’t been there before, but she also seemed more settled into herself. More sure of who she was and less striving for an ideal she couldn’t even envision. Even Mercedes seemed like she had had a hard time. The older woman had always been someone who worried for others, and Byleth feared that the last few years had been hard of her. 

And her other students… she worried for them all and feared that would have to face them on the battlefield.

Byleth only made her way to the cathedral, the place Dimitri had retreated to, after talking to the rest of them and making sure everyone was settled. She found the prince standing in front of the shattered altar and staring straight ahead, talking to ghosts that Byleth was fairly sure were not there. There was only one ghost truly haunting Dimitri, and it was one he didn't see as a ghost. Or at least he hadn’t when she had last seen him. 

Felix was standing not far behind him, leaning against one of the pillars and scowling at the Prince’s back. She gave him a nod as she made his way over to Dimitri, talking to him would have to wait for a moment.

Dimitri did not acknowledge her approach, instead, he continued talking. She picked up the name of Felix’s brother and heard him mumble about his parents, and again and again the assurance ‘I will’, ‘I will’, ‘I will’. What he would do he did not say, though Byleth could take a guess.

“Dimitri,” she called him, keeping her voice even and non demanding. He did not acknowledge her, so she took a step closer. Close enough that she could not only see the tension ripple through his shoulders but also the straining of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. The muttering stopped. 

“Dimi—” she tried again.

“Go away!” He almost snapped at her, the growl vibrating in his chest. Byleth breathed, studied him, and then turned away. It did not take her many steps to reach Felix’s side.

The dead man watched her approach, his face showing no surprise at the treatment she had received.

“Byleth.” he greeted her again. They had only managed to exchange a few words as they followed Dimitri towards the bandits.

“Felix… I am glad to see you.” The slight smile she got in return was tinged with dark amusement, but he only nodded in response.

“The last years…” she did not quite know what to say. Before during the attack, he had snapped at her to take care of herself before he had followed Dimitri into the fray. Though Felix might be the only person who would believe her when she told him that she had slept, aware as he was of her powers, she didn’t quite know what to say to him. Before, she had promised...

“How long,” she eventually forced himself to ask, “has he been this… bad?”

To her surprise, Felix laughed. “This bad? Believe it or not, but this is an improvement.”

He looked back towards Dimitri, and whatever dark humor had been on his face vanished. “He… has moments in which he is… more himself if you will. But he is never well. This is pretty much the best you can hope for.”

She had to close her eyes for a moment as she took that in. Gilbert had spoken of sending word to Lord Rodrigue for additional troops, but what would matter the most, was a leader.

Swallowing, she turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Dimitri. He was pacing now. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Save him.” Felix begged her, “Nothing I tried made a difference.”

Byleth looked to him, then back to the prince pacing in front of the ruined altar, and had no idea what to do. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Looking at the Prince’s back was almost like following a corpse. Though Rodrigue would never admit it out loud. He hoped that the feeling was due to believing the prince dead for the last five years, no matter what he had told his allies. In a way, it had been easier to lose Lambert. After all, he had never had any doubt about Lambert’s death.

The constant state of uncertainty following Dimitri’s presumed execution had been different. Rodrigue had wanted him to be alive. And the clues he found afterward: the lack of corpse, the lack of formal execution, the lack of reliable witnesses… For all Rodrigue had wanted to believe them, for all that he had had to believe them in order to keep going, they had been tainted by doubt.

Had he been grasping at straws? Was it wishful thinking?

The other Lords who had opposed Cornelia had been convinced by his arguments. Rodrigue had seen the light return into Ingrid’s and Sylvain’s eyes. But Rodrigue himself had doubted and wondered, how much of their belief was due to actual reasoning, and how much of it due to him being the one who made the argument. For all that Rodrigue tended to keep a low profile in politics outside of his support for the king, as was his duty as a Fraldarius, he was not unaware of his influence and standing. 

Getting word from Gustave about the prince’s whereabouts had been akin to regaining colors, but seeing him…

It had been heartbreaking. 

It had filled him with a different kind of doubt. Why had the prince not come to Fraldarius? Had Rodrigue given him a reason to doubt? To fear that he would not find safe harbor in Fraldarius? That he would not shelter Dimitri against the world?

(When he was all that Rodrigue had left?)

Soon after, it became obvious to Rodrigue that whatever doubts he might have, he would have to set aside. Dimitri was not well, and if Rodrigue was honest with himself, in no state to lead them. Unfortunately, they had no alternative, and even if they had, Dimitri would not allow himself to be led.

Back after the tragedy, Rodrigue had been in parts horrified and terrified (and heartsick and heartbroken) when the Prince had started talking about—and at times to—Felix (Felix who had bled to death covering the prince with his own body), as if he was still alive.

He had wondered and worried about his state of mind, but now, as he heard the prince snarl and rant and growl about the dead that haunted him (his father, his stepmother,  _ Glenn _ ), he wondered if Felix lingered among them as well.

If Dimitri thought that Felix would wish this kind of suffering on him (as if Glenn would, as if  _ Lambert  _ would).

In the end, ifs and maybes mattered little. The prince led, and they followed, across the Great Bridge of Myrdin and all the way to Gronder field, and dyed it red with the blood of far many people. 

And then Rodrigue once more had a choice to make. A choice he had sometimes wished he would have been faced with years ago. A choice that wasn’t really a choice, because Rodrigue would not be able to live with the consequences if he chose differently.

Steeping between the crouching prince and the girl with the knife was one of the easiest things he had done in a long time. 

He knew that this was not a wound he would recover from even as he fell. He had been too slow to properly block Fleche’s attack. Too far away. Too old. 

Yet, as he fell, arms caught him and he found himself looking up in the shocked eyes of his prince. 

Dimitri had grown a lot, Rodrigue noted absently, he looked a lot like his father now, but Rodrigue could still see the traces of his mother in him. He had let the scars around his right eye distract him from that.

“Don’t leave.” The prince begged, “I don’t want more people to die for me, not like this. I don’t want it. I- I am not worth it.”

Rodrigue wished he could fulfill his wish. Some deaths, however, could not be avoided. There was one thing he still needed to make sure of, however, one last lesson he needed to impart. 

One thing Rodrigue  _ needed  _ Dimitri to understand. He squeezed his hand.

“That is not for you to decide.” Rodrigue did not know where this last desperate strength came from, but he forced out the words, one after another.

“When people choose to die for you, to protect you, they do so because they think you are worth it. What you think does not matter. They made the choice to protect that life, your life, because to them… to us, it was worth saving.”

And he wasn’t done yet. “When someone protects you, dies for you, it’s not so you could avenge them, but so that you would live. That your life would continue, that you would grow and be happy and smile and be the best person you could be.” he met the prince’s gaze and compelled him to listen, praying desperately that his words would be enough, “My sons did it because they loved you, Dimitri, and someone who loves you would prefer to remain unavenged, if the price for vengeance was your life and happiness.”

“So I ask you...Please. Please, live.” Never before had begging been so easy. “Mourn me, but move on.” As the last of strength left him, Rodrigue found his gaze driving past the prince’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be with…” He could swear that Felix was standing behind Dimitri’s shoulder and looking down at him with sad eyes. His eyes were still the same shape as his mother’s, but he appeared older and taller than his son—both of them really—had ever managed to be. “My sons.”

The shade of Felix smiled at him, small and sad, but it was a smile all the same. It was the last thing he saw before everything went dark, and Rodrigue found himself smiling as well.

He could almost hear another voice echoing his words. 

_ “I want you to live.” _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more trigger warnings. Just a lot of feelings.

_ Live.  _ Everyone told him. 

_ Live, _ but it felt like a curse. 

_ Live, live, live. _

Yet the dead haunted him. 

_ Live.  _ Glenn died, his father died, his stepmother died. 

_ Live.  _ Thousands died. 

_ Live.  _ Rodrigue died.

_ Live, Dima. _

Felix was dead.

_ I want you to live. _

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri had no idea how he made it from Gronder field back to the monastery. He remembered Felix looking at him for a long moment after Rodrigue’s death. Felix had looked down at Rodrigue’s body still in Dimitri’s arms told him— told him— (I want you to live.)

Then he had turned and walked away. 

The professor had talked to him, at him, after that, but he remembered little of what she had said. What he did remember, was her grasping his hand ever so gently. For some reason, she had still believed in him—believed that Dimitri could do better. 

He remembered Dedue standing at his shoulder at some point, Sylvain and Ingrid bracketing him in and leading him along. Mercedes’ gentle hands as she healed his wound. 

Dimitri woke up in his bed in the monastery, in his old room, still looking just like he had left it before the attack. Even the broken lance was still in the corner. But the room was clean, the sheets were fresh.

Dimitri breathed. It was a miracle that he still could. 

He sat up stiffly and started putting on his boots and some clothes. He had no memory of taking them off. After a moment of hesitation, he left the armor behind. The dark armor was dented and scratched anyway. He hadn’t taken good care of it. There was another armor. The one Rodrigue had brought him, the one Dimitri hadn’t bothered to put on. Maybe he would now, but couldn’t, not yet. 

Dimitri’s gaze wandered around the room. It was empty. A shiver went through him, and he was forced to swallow. He had not been on his own in a long time.

Or had he?

He left his room with quiet steps, careful not to make too much noise and wake up the others. He was not up to meeting them yet. He would have to, he knew he would. He owed them all an apology at least, but before that… 

Dimitri saw no one but the guards one duty as he made his way to the cathedral. It was still early, not even the kitchen staff was up and about yet. The air was clear and fresh after the heavy rain that had lasted long into the night. He evaded some puddles as he crossed the ground making his way towards, and then across, the bridge.

The heavy doors were closed, but Dimitri had no trouble pushing them open. He flinched at the loud sound they made when they parted with a creak, the sound echoing through the empty cathedral. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, he knew that the person he was seeking was here.

Walking into the cathedral felt strange to him. He had spent so much time here, but now everything felt different. It wasn’t necessarily a good feeling. His steps echoed around him as he walked through the entrance. The monks and nuns had avoided him, and now that he could see clearer, he felt cold shame crawl down his spine.

But at the same time, they weren’t really important.

As soon as Dimitri’s eyes landed on the figure in front of the altar, his footsteps faltered.

Felix was standing exactly where Dimitri had spent his days previously. Unlike Dimitri, however, he was not pacing, nor talking to ghosts. Felix was looking up through the hole in the ceiling and letting the early morning sunlight falling on his face.

Stepping closer was harder than walking had ever been before. 

Felix did not turn at his approach. Showed no sign that he had noticed him. Dimitri wondered what other people would see when they looked into the cathedral now. Dimitri and Felix standing in front of the broken altar? Or was just Dimitri, the mad prince, still seeing the dead.

_ I’ll be with my sons. _

Felix was dead, yet Dimitri could see him. He was right in front of him. The other ghosts had vanished, he could hear their voices still, but he knew they weren’t real.

He could not do the same for Felix.

Felix was dead. Was he just another of Dimitri’s ghosts?

The last two steps that brought him next to Felix were the hardest. Harder still was turning his head to the side, and look down at his friend. His friend who had never left him. Or had he? And had Dimitri simply been unable to imagine Felix would do so, and invented him in turn. 

Felix turned his head to meet his gaze. For once there was no scowl on his face, no furrow on his brow. He resembled Glenn. He resembled Rodrigue, yet he looked only like himself. 

“Well?”

Felix's voice echoed in the cathedral around them. Was he the only one who heard it? Or maybe, just maybe Felix was still—

Dimitri reached for him, his hand hanging in the air between them, and to his relief, Felix reached back. Their fingers touched, interlinked, and Dimitri could feel the pressure of Felix’s palm against his own, but for the first time, he forced himself to look clearly. Pushed aside what he wanted so desperately to see, what he had been seeing for a decade. 

Just like on Gronder Field, Felix was there, and yet, when he tried, Dimitri could look through him. He took a shuddering breath. When he looked up, Felix met his gaze, he looked pained and so terribly unhappy that it broke Dimitri’s heart all over again.

Gently, oh so gently, he increased the pressure of his hand, squeezed Felix’s fingers with his own, and—

He pushed through. Before his eyes, the hand that was almost as familiar to him as his own dissolved into motes of glittering blue dust and light.

The sound that tore himself from his throat, half moan, half groan, half sob, was more fitting for the beast Felix had accused him of being. 

“Felix,” he whimpered, hands grasping through the air before him where the motes of light still lingered. But they scattered further with each movement of his hand. Dimitri sobbed, his hand reaching for something he could not grasp. Felix looked back at him, pain clear on his face. His arm was gone, but there was no blood.

Dimitri closed his eyes, bit his lip, breathed, and opened his eyes again. Before his eyes, the motes of light drew together and Felix’s arm reappeared. Then Felix raised his hand and grasped Dimitri’s own, still hanging uselessly in the air in front of him.

His grip was gentle and warm, and Dimitri could feel it.

Against his will, Dimitri found himself shaking his head, and then he started shaking all over. Felix simply looked back at him and held Dimitri’s shaking hands tightly in his own. Or as tightly as he could. 

“You—” the words were more garbled noise than actual utterance, “You, Felix you…”

Felix waited. 

“You’re dead.” Dimitri almost choked on the words.

Felix nodded calmly, “Yes.”

The first sob took him by surprise, but as soon as he started he could not stop. He sobbed again. His eyes burned and the tears followed. Dimitri curled in on himself, and found himself sinking to the ground, Felix followed.

“You’re dead. You’re dead.”

He swayed back and force, and his vision was obstructed by tears.

“Yes,” Felix agreed again. “Yes, I am.”

Dimitri moaned at the words, lurching forward and wrapping his arms around him. Felix was dead. Felix was here. Felix would scatter into motes of light if he held him too tightly. He did not understand. 

Dimitri wrapped himself around him. Pressed his face against Felix's neck. He could smell him, he could feel him in his arms. He sobbed, so hard he almost choked on it. Felix released one of Dimitri’s hands and then wrapped his free arm around Dimitri’s back. Dimitri curled closer, as close as he could, and he cried and cried and cried.

Eventually, when it felt like he could still cry, but was too tired to do so, Dimitri sagged against him fully, and let Felix hold him up.

He did. Felix was dead. Dimitri did not understand. 

“You’re dead.” He felt Felix nod. “Yes.” the answer was almost a whisper.

“You died… in Duscur.”

Felix took a deep, shuddering breath, and when he breathed out again, that was shuddering too. 

“Yes.”

Dimitri clung tighter to him, pulled Felix as close as he could. “You protected me.”

_ You died for me.  _ He did not say, but he was sure Felix could hear it all the same.

“Yes.” Felix’s answer was a sight.

Dimitri forced himself to lean back far enough to look into Felix’s face. Felix was crying too. Dimitri shakily raised one hand and used his thumb to wipe them away, it was enough to get him an almost smile from Felix. The other raised both of his hands in return and used his sleeves to wipe away Dimitri's own tears. 

Dimitri felt the fabric on his face, felt it wipe away his tears.

“... But you are here…”

Felix's hands fell back to his side, and he swallowed. “Yes,” he said again, but he said no more than that, even though Dimitri knew that more needed to be said. 

Hesitantly, he reached for Felix’s hand, but for once, Felix did not reach back immediately. 

“I can’t stay here forever and continue to hold your hand, Dimitri,” Felix mumbled, he wasn’t looking at Dimitri, instead his gaze was directed at the sky. He looked just as pained and hurt and as lost as Dimitri felt.

But before Dimitri could respond, before he could swallow past the lump in his throat, Felix grasped his hand and interlinked their fingers... A familiar gesture, that suddenly seemed impossibly fragile and impossible in itself.

With a deep sigh Dimitri stood up, and Felix followed him. They stood that way for a moment, then Dimitri stepped back. One step after another, he put distance between them. Walked away from the spot in front of the altar towards the pews. Felix followed, the distance between them as wide as it could be without breaking the hold they had on each other.

Heavy with feelings he would not have been able to name, even if he tried, Dimitri dropped into one of the pews. He stared straight ahead and spotted Rodrigue’s body where the nuns and priests had laid it out until they could see to it. Had it been there the whole time?

After a moment Felix sat down next to him, close enough that Dimitri should be able to feel his warmth, but not close enough to touch. Dimitri felt nothing. They had sat like this a lot of times in the academy, and during his years on the hunt, but Dimitri could not remember if he had ever felt any warmth from sitting next to him. Could not remember if he had ever been able to feel his heartbeat pumping blood through his body. He thought he could remember the warmth. The feeling of his chest expanding as he breathed. He could not remember his heartbeat or the sound of his steps on the ground.

A new wave of pain washed over Dimitri, and he closed his eyes and lowered his head. After a moment of silence, he felt Felix’s hand squeeze his. Dimitri opened his eyes again and tugged Felix’s hand closer so their interlinked hands rested on his leg. He stared down at them. 

Felix said nothing. Dimitri could hear him breathe.

“Were you ever there?” Dimitri eventually forced himself to ask. He did not dare ask if Felix was actually present now, he did not know if he was prepared for the answer. Dimitri braced himself. 

To his surprise, Felix laughed, it was a bitter and broken sound. “Yes, I was, but maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t been, for all the good it did.” 

Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Felix sighed and continued. “Yes, I have been there all the time. I,” he swallowed, “I have been at your side from the moment I died. I never left… though sometimes you could not even see me.”

Dimitri breathed, his heartbeat thundered in his veins. “In Duscur…”

“Yes… all 21 hours until they found you.”

Twenty one hours after Felix had died… how much longer had it been with Felix's dying. 

Felix continued. His hand was shaking. “You could not hear me. You could not see me … you just…” he trailed off, shook his head. Dimitri dared to look at him, but Felix too had been watching their hands. “They found you… brought you… brought us back,” here his voice wavered. This part Dimitri did not remember. Felix’s gaze flickered to his father’s body. He pursed his lips. “I stayed with you until you woke up… and suddenly… you could see me.”

Felix shrugged.

“You could see me… but you…”

Dimitri swallowed. But he did not believe that Felix was dead. Had acted like Felix was alive. 

“Why…” Why didn’t you tell me? He wanted to ask, but he felt sick at the thought of what it might have been like if Felix had. Would he have survived that? In those early days when he felt more dead than alive?

“I couldn’t.” Felix's voice was firm, uncompromising, but with a bitter undertone. He looked at his father’s corpse again, a complicated look flashed across his face. “I literally couldn’t… and no one else would.”

Dimitri looked at Rodrigue as well, and suddenly his conversations with the duke shifted into a new light. He swallowed, remembering the pain he had likely caused his father’s friend. He wondered what it would have been like if they had told him the truth. If Rodrigue, Rufus, Dedue… or Sylvain had found the courage.

Felix's hand on his own tightened, and he looked down. To his surprise, Dimitri realized that he had been shaking. He squeezed Felix’s hand back and then met his friend’s eyes. Felix looked worried, and Dimitri forced a smile. It did nothing to put Felix at ease. But then, Dimitri hadn’t really expected it to.

“You are… here…” he swallowed harshly, squeezed his eyes shut, and squeezed Felix’s hand again, his anchor against the waves that threatened to swallow him. Then, he squeezed too tightly, there was no sound of pain, instead, Felix's hand scattered like light between his fingers. It was almost worse. Dimitri forced his hand to unclench, shaking even worse than before. This time, Felix's fingers wrapped around his, cradling Dimitri’s hand between his own. He was glad he had not worn his armor. 

Dimitri looked up at him again, but Felix wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead, he was staring straight ahead towards the altar. 

“How?” he whispered, staring at Felix's profile. How was Felix here? how could the professor see him? how— How was it, that out of all his ghosts only the ghosts he had not known was a ghost, was real?

To his surprise, he saw the corner of Felix’s mouth quirk upwards slightly. Then he turned to face Dimitri. Like this, face to face, noses only a handbreadth apart, his smile was clear to see. 

“You really are slow,” Felix's voice was pained but fond, “And here, I thought you would figure it out eventually.”

Felix laughed, just slightly. It was a rough and broken sound. 

He sounded a bit like Rodrigue had, all those years ago in his office in Fraladarius when he had asked him why Felix’s eyes in the painting had been blue. Just like back then, Dimitri knew he had missed something, but he did not know what it was. 

Felix’s laughter trailed off, and he looked down at their interlinked hands. Then he sighed. 

“We had a conversation like this before,“ Felix added, “not far from here, “ Dimitri’s eyes followed Felix’s back over his shoulder towards the left side entrance, “some five years ago.”

It took Dimitri a moment to understand. 

“We talked about soulmates… and you said… you did not know what your clue… well,” Felix laughed again, “Here I am. Your clue.”

“Soulmates…” Dimitri repeated. His mind was whirling, and suddenly bile rose in the back of his throat. “You said you knew… You,” He breathed, “did you know it then? Because, because you—”

He could not bring himself to say the word, but Felix showed no such weakness.

“Died? No,” he shook his head, dark hair swaying with the movement, “No. I had known for years before Duscur. I told you I knew it then, remember?”

Felix chuckled lightly to himself. “But…. well, it did take you longer than I thought it would… and it seems like I broke my own resolution.”

“What—” Dimitri cut himself off. He remembered their conversation, remembered what Felix had said. “You... Did you ever plan on telling me?”

The sudden anger in his voice startled him, but Felix did not even blink. Given what he had experienced in the last five years, maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise. 

“No, I thought you would figure it out… and then I would tell you that you were slow... And we would have a laugh about it.” Felix's voice sounded fond and soft, almost nostalgic. 

As Felix spoke, Dimitri could almost imagine it. Him realizing they were soulmates, hesitantly approaching Felix, only to have him laugh and tell him that he took his time. It was a sweet image, and he allowed himself a moment to bask in it, before pushing it aside. That wasn’t their reality. But it would have been preferable to this. Anything would have been preferable to this. 

Dimitri let out a shuddering breath. “So, you being here… a ghost... Is my clue?”

If so, it was truly cruel. A curse rather than a blessing.

Felix nodded slowly. “Yes… I am bound here until you make your peace with my death.”

Dimitri’s heart almost stopped. Bound. The word repeated in his head. Bound. Bound and unable to leave.

“You…” He felt sick. “I… I’m sorry.”

Dimitri did not quite have the words to tell him how sorry he was, could not even look him in the eye. He heard Felix huff, then Felix squeezed his hands gently. “Dimitri.”

He did not react, knew that Felix wanted him to look up, but he couldn’t. Almost ten years had passed since Duscur. Ten years in which Dimitri had wanted to lay the ghosts to rest. Ten years, and the one who had denied Felix his rest, was Dimitri himself. 

“Urg.” one of Felix’s hands released his, and instead landed on his face, the right side where scars crossed over his eye. Scars that would have been worse if not for Felix interference. Felix’s grip was gentle but relentless as he forced Dimitri to raise his head. Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut. The sound that came from Felix was somewhere between fond amusement and exasperation. 

“Dimitri. Look at me.”

How could he refuse?

So Dimitri complied, but it was a struggle all the same. When he finally forced himself to meet Felix’s gaze, he found his friend waiting patiently. When Felix saw that he had his attention, he gave him a stern look, and then he said, very clearly.

“It’s not your fault.”

The words stripped him bare. Dimitri found that he could not respond, could barely even breathe. Felix continued on relentlessly.

“Did you not listen to what my old man said? Everyone makes their own choices. I can’t tell you that I don’t wish I lived, because that would be a lie. I did not want to die. And if I had had the chance, I would have taken it.”

Dimitri opened his mouth, but Felix continued, “But not if the price would have been your life.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

“I did not want you to die for me! I did not want you to die so I could live!” His voice was desperate, but Felix remained unmoved, simply continued looking at him, as Dimitri shook his head. 

“Felix—”

“Neither did I. But it was my choice to make.”

Dimitri stared at him, swallowed and lowered his head again. He understood what Felix meant, but he did not like it. Did not feel worthy of it. 

Rodrigue’s voice rang in his head.  _ That’s not for you to decide. _

He shuddered at the memory of it, and just barely stopped himself looking back at the corpse not far from them, to check if Rodrigue’s ghost had risen as well. 

“Dimitri.” Felix said, and his voice was much kinder now, “I wanted to live, and I tried as hard as I could. I failed.” The truth of the statement hung undeniable in the air between them, “But I do not regret it either.”

Dimitri found his eyes undeniably drawn to their hands, still interlinked. “How can you not?” he asked. Forcing himself to remember the time that had passed since Felix’s death, the early ones, which he might make himself believe, and… the last five years. The time where Felix had been beside him, but for the longest time, Dimitri had not even realized it. Felix had not left his side since the dungeon in Fhirdiad, of that much he was certain… and maybe even before that.

With all the atrocities he has committed, how could Felix still not regret his choice? 

“But… you are not…” Dimitri did not quite have the words for it. “At peace, because of me… you can’t even...”

He forced himself to meet Felix's gaze again. Felix studied him for a long moment, something thoughtful in his gaze. Then his lips curled just slightly into a smile. A true smile, not a smirk or some kind of mask, but true and honest and much missed.

“Oh, Dima,” Felix said with all the affection that Dimitri had last heard from a little boy, holding his hands, “You truly are a fool.” 

Felix shrugged. “Honestly, I never expected to end up as a ghost of all things. And if I told you that there were moments where I did not resent this fate it would be a lie. Sometimes,” Felix breathed deeply. “Sometimes, I resented you as well.” Dimitri flinched and pulled back, tried to pull his hands from Felix’s own, but he wasn’t released. “But the thought of not being around was worse somehow.” Felix shook his head, “Every time I find myself getting angry, I remember the moments where you could have died, where you…” Felix paused, then hesitantly raised one of his hands to trace the scar on Dimitri’s face. “Where you needed me… And I was glad that I could still do this much at least.”

Felix lowered his hand, but Dimitri stopped him, instead, grasping it in his own and pressing it against his cheek. 

“So… yes, sometimes I resented you…” Felix acknowledged, but he avoided Dmitri’s gaze, “But Dima, even then, I never stopped loving you.”

Those words both mended and broke his heart.

“Oh,” he whispered. 

Under any other circumstances, he likely would have taken pleasure in Felix’s flustered state, but these circumstances did not allow for it. Dimitri hesitated, unsure what to say, and Felix took it as a cue to continue, still not looking at him, but at some point above his head. He was cradling Dimitri’s face still.

“Urg, don’t you dare act surprised. It’s not like it's unexpected. I wouldn’t have put up with you otherwise.”

Unsure how to respond Dimitri leaned into Felix’s touch, the hand on his face trembled slightly. 

The silence was awkward and strange, but not truly uncomfortable. 

“Thank you, Felix. I know I do not de—” a sharp look stopped him from finishing the sentence. “But I am grateful, I don't think I would have managed without you. Even if I might not have acted like it recently,“ And the shame set heavy in his chest, “you are my oldest and dearest friend, and so very precious to me... And my soulmate, apparently.”

It was bittersweet. 

Dimitri forced himself to continue speaking, to ask the question he needed an answer too. “But, I have to ask.” he swallowed, “Do you want to rest?”

Felix startled. Surprise flashed over his face, and then he frowned, but it wasn’t his angry frown, rather it was his thoughtful one.

“I don’t know,” he answered after a long moment of thought.

“Maybe… It’s not that I want to leave… and sometimes I want to stay… but, I'm dead, Dimitri.” One day those words might stop hurting, “This is no longer my place. The dead do not belong with the living, and it won’t do us any good to pretend otherwise. Even us being soulmates…” he gestured with the hand that used to rest on Dimitri’s face, and Dimitri already missed the contact, “does not change that. I do not believe that I am supposed to stay with you forever. Haunting you. Chaining you to the past,“ Felix grimaced, the thought evidently distasteful to him. 

Dimitri would not mind, but then he was hardly the best judge when it came to matters of the dead. However, that brought up another question, to which he did not truly want to know the answer.

“And now? Now that… I know the truth…” Dimitri’s mouth moved, but no words came out. He swallowed and then forced himself to continue speaking.

“Are you… Going to leave now?” he sounded young and scared even to his own ears. Not like a man capable of tearing through armies, “Are going to leave me alone?”

Felix made a noise of disbelief. “Alone?” The question was a voice full of exasperation. “How are you alone, Dimitri? Ingrid, Sylvain, the professor, and the others… Dedue,” he shook his head, “How are you alone?”

Dimitri swallowed. “It’s not the same. They aren’t … my soulmate.”

Felix actually snorted at that. “As if you knew that.”

Dimitri shrugged, feeling strange in his own skin. Too large and too small all at once, “Maybe, but none of them are you. And you were always…”

Always there.

Dimitri grimaced. It all came back to that. When he refocused his attention on Felix, he found him seemingly lost in thought.

“I think I could.” Felix confessed finally, “Something feels different now.”

Dimitri had not felt fear like this in a long time. Maybe not since those desperate moments in Duscur. “I see.”

His voice sounded strange even to his own ears. Felix’s attention snapped back to him and he pursed his lips, then opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again.

Dimitri could not break the silence either. He knew what he wanted, but he did not truly have the right to ask. So instead of talking, they sat in silence for a long moment, shoulder to shoulder, still holding hands...

“I will have to apologize to the others.” Dimitri eventually said, breaking the silence and changing the topic. Felix did not answer him immediately, however, even without looking at him, Dimitri could feel his gaze on him.

“You should.” he agreed eventually, “Your manners were deplorable.”

Dimitri huffed a sound half laugh, half sight. “... You were right.” he swallowed. “I should focus on Fhirdiad.” 

Felix stayed silent, so he continued, “The people have suffered Cornelia long enough. And… I need to be the king the people deserve. The king…” he looked at Rodrigue’s body, “the king Rodrigue deserved… and you, too.”

Felix groaned and flopped back against the backrest of the pew. “Urg, Listen to yourself. That’s not…” he grimaced, “It is what is needed, and frankly, at this point, you are probably the only one who can do it.” Felix made it sound like that was truly a terrible thing, and given his recent track record, Dimitri thought he was probably right. “But… I can’t talk for the old man. But I didn’t die for any king, or prince for that matter. I protected you because you are my friend.”

Dimitri swallowed. “Yes… but…”

Felix shrugged, “I said it before, didn’t I? I don’t care if you are the prince or the king, or a fisherman or servant or—” he shrugged, “Whatever.”

And so he had, Dimitri remembered that conversation well, but things were different now, Felix must know it too. Dimitri could hear him give a deep sight before he spoke again, “Do you want to be king?” 

Dimitri made to answer, but Felix cut him off before he could start. “And not because you think it’s something you should do. Or something you owe people, but because it’s something you want to do.”

What a strange and impossible question. Dimitri turned to face Felix, their gazes met and held. With everyone else the answer would have been obvious, but with Felix— 

Felix wasn’t asking as a citizen of Faerghus, and he wasn’t asking his king or prince. He was asking his friend. (His soulmate.) And so, Dimitri considered the question.

“Yes.” He eventually answered. “Edelgard must be stopped, and I… I need a resolution… an answer for her actions.” An answer from the girl who he had considered a friend once. “I can do this, and I must, because... There is so much blood on my hands… I need to make up for it…”

Felix nodded, accepted it for what it was. And it was that steadiness that prompted Dimitri to continue. The words were honest, but the guild lingered on his tongue. 

“But, I’m scared. I don’t know if I can do this alone… Until Edelgard… will you stay?”

The surprise on Felix’s face was clear, and for a moment Dimitri thought he had made a grave mistake, but then Felix nodded. 

“Yes,” he agreed, “Until the matter with Edelgard is settled, I will stay…” amber eyes flickered to Rodrigue’s body. “I have a stake in seeing it through to the end.”

Dimitri smiled. “I suppose this will be the end of it,” He said and with the knowledge that the emperor was a formidable enemy, he added, “One way or another.”

Felix did not disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has my absolute favorite scene in this fic. It's also the scene that made my write this for the bb.


	14. Chapter 14

They took Fhirdiad, killed Cornelia and the people celebrated. Dimitri could not quite understand how they could be so happy about his return, not when he had abandoned them for so long, but he swore to be worthy of their trust. It was a promise he made to himself as he stood on the balcony and watched as the masses cheered their liberation. 

Some hours later, the city was still celebrating, but Dimitri removed himself from the festivity and made his way to one particular courtyard. He had never returned to this place before, not since that day he had found himself surrounded by the ghosts of the dead after they were supposed to have been laid to rest at the memorial.

To his surprise, the memorial was still standing. Evidently, Cornelia had not cared enough about it to remove it, or maybe she had seen it was a sign of her triumphs. Dimitri didn’t know which one it was, but either way, he was grateful.

The gardens around the memorial had not been looked after under Cornelia’s reign. The flowerbeds were overgrown and, in parts, overrun by weeds, some of them edible. There were also signs of moss on the dark stone of the memorial, but strangely Dimitri found that he did not mind.

Ten years was not a short time, and seeing the signs of age on it was settling in a way. It did not make walking the last steps over to it any easier, however. It was already dark, but the light of the moon was bright enough for Dimitri to make out the names on the stone, once he was close enough.

His eyes wandered over the names, and he found himself somewhat ashamed to realize that he had forgotten some of them. Others, however, were burned into his memory forever. 

Eventually, he found the name he had been looking for. The name he now knew should be on this stone, though he had not seen it when he had last been here, nor when he had collected the names. If he had noticed it earlier if he would have opened his eyes, could he have spared himself and others so much grief, pain, and sorrow? Rodrigue, Dedue, Sylvain. They had known the lie that Dimitri had been telling himself since that night in Duscur. Known… and let him be. Smiled in the face of their own pain to protect him. 

Felix Hugo Fraldarius, age 13. 

It was in the upper half of the name list, directly behind Glenn’s name. 

Dimitri reached for it with shaking fingers. The name did not vanish when he touched the stone as he had half wished for. His breath, when he let it out was shakier than his hand. 

Felix was dead. Every time he noticed something that he had been blind to before he felt a spike of pain and shame rush through him. Dimitri stepped even closer to the stone and traced the name again. He could still remember how Felix used to write his name as a child. The signatures they had practiced so proudly… he had not seen Felix write anything in ten years.

Grief all but bowed him, and his forehead thunked against the cold stone. Ironically, Felix's name was just below him, and he could just barely make it out in his current position. Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut, but it made no difference.

The stone was cold under his forehead, but tears on his cheeks were warm. He wasn’t quite sobbing, but he was grieving all the same. 

Eventually, Dimitri found it in himself to straighten and wipe his hand over his eyes, to brush away the last of his tears. Ten years and he had not grieved Felix’s death. Ten years… 

“I imagine they will be looking for you by now.”

Dimitri hummed, but he was too emotionally exhausted to be truly surprised at the presence. There had been no footsteps behind him, and the voice was more familiar to him than his own. With a deep sigh, he turned away from the memorial, his eyes once more lingering on the name of the boy who died, the name of the man who now stood behind him.

Dimitri turned and found them Felix was almost within his arm’s reach. He looked thoughtful, and he wasn’t watching Dimitri, but the memorial. 

“How come,” Dimitrii found himself asking, his mind still lingering on the carved name. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, age 13. “that you don’t look like a child?”

He only got a shrug in return. “I don’t know. But it’s fitting I suppose. I’m no longer that boy after all.”

He wasn’t. And neither was Dimitri the boy he had once been. There were some things that could never be undone. The only option was moving forward. 

So Dimitri nodded and stepped away from the memorial towards Felix. “Do you think I will ever find out what happened in Duscur?”

Felix was silent, but Dimitri was sure that he too was remembering what Cornelia had said before she had been killed. That had his stepmother… 

It was ironic that the foundation of his belief kept being chipped away bit by bit, but maybe that was the only way for him to open his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” was the answer Felix gave him, and Dimitri had not really expected anything else, “maybe you will, maybe you won’t. I think it’s more important to focus on ensuring that something like that does not happen again.”

And that was true enough.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

They saved Derdriu, and Arundel gave him another piece of the puzzle he did not yet understand. And then it was time to move on Enbarr. Before that, however, Dimitri decided to meet with Edelgard, taking only the professor and Felix with him. 

Edelgard did not give him the answer he wanted, nor the resolution part of him had still hoped for. Felix didn’t look surprised, the professor did not look surprised, and neither was Dimitri. 

He was, however, glad that he had one last interaction with El where they were not trying to kill each other. She was walking her path, and though Dimitri did not agree with it, or even understand it, he could respect her for making a choice and sticking with it. 

In the end, a fight would decide whether it would be Dimitri’s or Edelgard’s answer that would decide the future of Fodlan. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri did not understand how letting someone turn her into a monster validated Eldelgard’s ideals in any way. Had she been pushed too far by the constant defeats, and now the final loss of Hubert, that she had lost sight of what she was fighting for?

Whatever it was that she had allowed them to do to her, if these were the means she wanted to use to create it, it was not a future Dimitri wanted to live in. The fight through the imperial palace was one of their hardest battles yet, especially with the constant imperial reinforcements that kept coming at them from behind. Another threatening aspect was whatever magic Edelagrd was using to track them through the castle and attack them from a great distance. It was only due to Felix’s warning shout that Dimitri had managed to avoid the first one, while Annette, the target of the magic, weathered it due to her own formidable mastery of magic. But Dimitri knew that if he got hit by one of these blows, he was unlikely to simply walk it off. No matter where in the imperial palace there were, the magic would find them, the only positive aspect of it was, that after a salvo was fired, it evidently needed to recharge. 

The tide of the battle turned in their favor, however, when Sylvain struck down one of the dark mages in the dark uniforms causing the mage’s companions to flee and leave Edelgard behind. 

It broke the sturdiness of the imperial defense, as the mages that remained, while formidable, were not the same kind of threat as the others. In the end, they pushed through and Edelgard, or what was left of her, awaited them in the throne room. 

Dimitri barely recognized the girl he once knew in her grotesque form, and he saw the horror he felt reflected in his companions, especially the students of the former Black Eagle house could not quite comprehend what had become of her.

As soon as they made their way towards the throne, Dimitri found herself the focus of all her attacks. It did not surprise him. Unlike their human opponents, this strange form of Edelgard tanked damage without blinking. At one point Dimitri was reminded of their battle against the black beast after the Lance of Ruin had twisted Miklan, but unlike the late son of house Gautier, Edelgard still seemed to be in control of her actions. 

There was a moment in the battle where Dimitri found himself faltering. Eventually, one of Edelgard’s attacks found its mark and slammed into Dimitri and sent him to the ground. The magic ravaged through his body and made his limbs shake and his head spin. The pain was so immense and all-consuming that when he looked up at the next incoming blow he almost could not bring himself to move.

The thought was there before he could push it back. Would it be so bad if he died here? He himself had Felix that this would be the end one way or another. If he died, it would be over.

“Dimitri!” It was Felix’s shout of terror that sent him onto his knees and up to his feet, out of the way of the attack by a hair's breadth.

_ Live _ . That’s what they had asked of him. Dimitri just needed to remember it.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The battle ended, and though it meant that the hardest part of the fighting was over, it left Dimitri with an empty feeling. He let the dagger that Edelgard had used to try to kill him clatter to the ground. He knew it well, and that, in a way, hurt more than the wound itself.

He breathed out and Felix’s was at his side.

“What were you thinking pulling out the dagger?” he snapped and his hands pushed back the heavy cloak Dimitri wore, trying to utility get a look at the wound. “Did all your lessons on first aid get blown out of your head? You do not pull them out!”

Dimitri watched Felix as he snapped and snarled, and suddenly he felt even more miserable. It was over. Felix had kept his promise, now Dimitri…

He swallowed and looked away, and met the professor’s gaze. She was watching him from where she had knelt down next to Edelgard’s body with sad knowing eyes. Dimitri swallowed again and looked back to Felix, who was now watching him in turn.

“I’ll give you a moment. “ the professor said quietly as she rose to her feet. “But don’t take too long… the others will want to see that you are safe.”

Dimitri nodded jerkily and watched as she moved past them and squeezed Felix’s wrist for a moment.

Byleth footsteps got further away, and then a door opened and fell shut somewhere behind Dimitri’s back. It left him and Felix alone in the throne room with only Edelgard’s corpse for company. 

“So,” Felix said, picking up on Dimitri’s mood. “There you have it. The emperor is dead.”

“She’s dead.” Dimitri agreed. Felix nodded, watching him closely. “Is it everything you dreamed of?”

In a way that was a cruel question to ask, but Dimitri did not begrudge Felix. “No.” 

“No.” Felix agreed. “Vengeance won’t bring back the dead.”

“It won’t.” Felix was still dead, and for now, still in front of him. 

Dimitri reached for him, and Felix held out his hand with a sight, but for once that was not what Dimitri had intended. Instead, he spread his arms wider and pulled Felix into a tight hug. He felt him stiffen against him, but relax just as quickly. Felix’s chin dug uncomfortably into Dimitri’s injured shoulder, but the pain only grounded him. Reminded him that Felix was not gone. After a moment, Felix’s arms came around him as well, his hands resting at the small of Dimitri’s back under the heavy cloak.

Dimitri’s resolve broke. 

“Please stay,” he found himself asking and Felix tensed in his arms. Dimitri swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Just a little longer… until…”

He trailed off because he could not find a limit that he could bear to set.

“Until?” Felix asked, his voice quiet.

Dimitri squeezed him tighter and pressed his cheek onto the crown of Felix’s head. “Just a bit longer… until… ” because that would be his fate. “Until I’m king.”

Felix remained silent and tense in his arms, for a long moment, before he squeezed Dimitri back, just slightly. “You are the king.”

Dimitri shuddered and shook his head. “Until they crown me.” the words pained him to say, “It won’t be long now. If we want stability... It has to happen soon…”

He felt and heard Felix huff. “I told you already. I can’t stay and hold your hand forever.” a pause, “Even if…” Felix did not finish the sentence, but Dimitri did not need it to understand.

“Just a bit longer,” Dimitri begged then he swallowed and took a deep breath. “Please.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Their return to Garreg Mach after the war should have been a march of victory, but it felt like he was walking towards an execution instead. His own.

They had sent messages out all over Fodlan to the lords that had not yet been subdued during the war. They were to come to the monastery and swear fealty or brought into the new order by force. Dimitri did not like using the threat of war, he had enough of it for more than one lifetime, but he knew that stability and unity for the newly united continent was absolutely necessary. 

As soon as Edelgard had fallen, the date had been set. The 21 of the Red Wolf Moon, the anniversary of the founding of the Holy Kingdom of Fearghus, and now the date at which the unification of Fodlan, the refunding of Faerghus would be celebrated. 

Some had argued for an earlier date, but the draw of the significance of the date was too strong for them to resist in the end. Dimitri the man would have been fine waiting for years, but Dimitri king knew it was needed. It gave him not quite three months. Three months until he would be officially crowned the king of Fodlan. Three months until Felix would leave. 

Twice, Dimitri had begged him to stay. Twice, Felix had relented, but Dimitri had seen the worry in his gaze that day in the throne room. The fear that Dimitri was once more shackling himself to the dead. To Felix.

Dimitri could not ask him for more, not when Felix had already given him too much. He deserved better. Yet, this was his last selfish indulgence, before the final goodbye. 

Yet, the days ran through his fingers like water through a sieve, there was no stopping them or holding them. Dimitri spent his days in endless meetings squabbling with nobles from all over the continent who wanted assurances or advantages. More than one young lady was thrown in his direction, but at least he knew how to avoid those. Through it all, his friends supported him, honest and true, and always willing to intervene when it got too much. 

The Professor had already been declared the new archbishop and though she did not seem all that enthused by the outcome, her presence alone was more reassuring than Lady Rhea had ever managed to be. 

Felix stayed by his side through it all. And now, that Dimitri was aware that Felix was no longer among the living, he wondered how he could have ever missed it. The only one who saw him were the Professor, Flayn, and Seteth, but Felix would not tell him why. Others looked passed him, walked through him even, and did not hear his sharp words or notice his sharper looks. 

Even after the meetings were done for the day and Dimitri retired to his chamber, Felix stayed by his side. The first evening back in the monastery Felix had attempted to give him some privacy and Dimitri had panicked, thinking he was gone for good. 

Seeing their king stumbling from his room wide eyes and lance in hand had probably given the guards quite a scare. But if nothing else, the commotion it had created had drawn enough attention that Felix too had returned to his side. He hadn’t been impressed, but Dimitri had been too shaken to do much more than reassure his other friends and then return to his room where he had slid down along the door. Felix had been in front of him then, and Dimitri had drunk in the sight of him, still there, while he desperately tried to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“Did you think I would leave without saying goodbye?” Felix had asked him, sounding furious, and hurt. Dimitri had been ashamed to acknowledge it because he had thought that maybe Felix had. Maybe Felix had taken this as the point where he would make the cut before Dimitri asked him to stay even longer. 

His face must have given some of his thoughts away because Felix had sunk down on the ground in front of him with a sight. “I promised I would stay with you until you are crowned king. And I don’t break my promises.” And that was nothing but the truth. Even death had not stopped Felix from keeping his promise. Dimitri had nodded and Felix had not left his side since.

“Your hair is a mess, “ Felix would inform him in the morning before he set about fixing it. 

“You should actually eat, Dimitri, just having the food stand there won’t help you.” would be a reminder while he worked.

“That lord is actually doodling,” was the droll tone when Felix spotted him watching one of the lords during a meeting with worried eyes.

Not even when Dimitri went to sleep, rare as that still was, did Felix leave.

“It’s late.” Felix would snap at him when instead of going to bed he would settle down at his desk to look over some documents, and he would keep interrupting until Dimitri set his work aside. It was frustrating, but at the same time, Dimitri had to accept that a problem that had seemed daunting to him in the evening was often much easier to solve in the morning with clearer eyes.

Dimitri still did not sleep well, though he tried to at least rest in bed for a while and attempted to sleep. Felix would sit with him as he fell asleep, sprawled out on the bed because Dimitri had insisted that he stayed. Felix had not complained. He stuck with Dimitri just like he had through his years on the run, and after. But with each day his coronation got closer and closer. 

Dimitri got used to feeling Felix’s fingers card through his hair as he fell asleep, and used to pressing his face against Felix’s side as he lay in bed. Used to his sharp remarks about the nobles he interacted with. Used to the fussing that came strangle naturally to his friend, now that Dimitri allowed it. 

Dimitri would miss Felix like a limb, and more so, as that one part of himself, he had never not loved.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

On the evening before the coronation, Dimitri once more climbed up the steps of the goddess tower. He had not been here since the morning the Professor had found him and Felix here, despite spending the last two months exclusively in the monastery. 

Somehow it had felt wrong to go up there, but on this evening he could help himself. He put aside the last-minute paperwork and the letters and rose to his feed.

“Walk with me?” he asked Felix who was sitting by the window. He got a sharp look in return, and Felix’s eyes flickered from him to the bed. Dimitri suppressed the bittersweet amusement that welled up inside of him as he wondered by how many minutes he had preempted Felix’s insistence that he go to bed. Then his gaze returned to Dimitri, who waited patiently. After a moment Felix nodded and rose to his feet.

“Put on a cloak,” he said almost absentmindedly, and Dimitri complied, picking up his old cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. Felix moved passed him towards the door, and then, before Dimitri could open it, he walked through the wood itself like the ghost he was.

Dimitri swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. Suddenly, he knew with crystal clarity what Felix expected him to do. His hands clenched at his side, then he braced himself before opening the door and stepping outside the room.

Felix was waiting for him just outside a contemplative look on his face. “Where were you planning to go?” he asked, his voice even. 

Dimitri smiled at him. “You'll see.”

And then he led the way to the goddess tower. Dimitri was fairly certain that Felix had figured it out by the time they crossed the bridge to the cathedral, as his friend’s gaze wandered from Dimitri to the tower and then back again. 

Dimitri gave him a smile but said nothing. Felix kept his silence as well, though he started walking closer to Dimitri, almost shoulder to shoulder.

They climbed the steps in silence. Hand against the wall for stability and orientation, Dimitri felt nostalgia wash over him. The steps leading up to the top of the tower felt much shorter than they had in his memory, and it was only his footsteps echoing around them as they climbed them.

Dimitri pushed open the door and stepped outside. The view was just as breathtaking as he remembered it, though the lights of the town were much sparser than they had been before the war. His feet carried him to the railing and he leaned on it, letting the wind blow across his face and mess up his hair. Felix would fix it tomorrow morning, but it would be the last time.

After a moment Felix came up beside him and leaned his hip against the railing. Unlike Dimitri the wind did not affect him, his ponytail hung neatly down his back and his clothes did not rustle in the wind. Was it new or another thing that Dimitri simply hadn’t noticed before?

“Tomorrow I will be crowned.”

Felix stayed silent and although Dimitri had turned his gaze back towards the stars, he could feel Felix’s gaze on him almost like a physical weight. 

“Do you think they will remember me? Or will it just be the king from now on?”

It was the echo of another conversation more than a decade past.

Felix breathed in, the sound audible even across the wind rushing around Dimitri. “I don’t know, but… I think you have plenty of people around who will try.”

Dimitri nodded and smiled slightly. He hoped they would… and he hoped that he himself would as well.

“I will miss you,” Dimitri confessed quietly. “With you… I could always be sure.”

Felix said nothing. 

And Dimitri closed his eyes. He knew what he needed to do.

“Thank you.” he said, voice even, “For staying with me for so long. Your absence will leave a hole in my life, but I am glad for every moment we had together and glad that my life had you in it.”

He could hear Felix take a shuddering breath, and turned to face him before he continued speaking.

“No matter what happens to me in the future, I will never forget you.” he caught Felix’s gaze and held it. “And I hope that I can become a king that can lead the people well… and a man worthy of being your soulmate. Someone you can be proud of.”

Felix shook his head. “It’s not about being worthy.”

Dimitri nodded, “Maybe not, but I want to be that kind of man all the same.”

Felix looked at him quietly, and Dimitri cherished the slight quirk of his lips, drank in all his features, so precious and soon gone forever, and committed them to memory.

“Dimitri,” Felix said then, “I was always proud to be your soulmate, that was never in question, but I want you to be proud of yourself as well.”

“Yes…” Dimitri acknowledged, smiling slightly, “I hope that one day I can be.”

He hesitated, but then Dimitri spread his arms in invitation, and to his wonder, Felix stepped into them without hesitation and wrapped his arms around Dimitri in turn. 

The next words Felix spoke were muffled into his chest, “I will miss you, too.”

Dimitri lowered his head to rest it on top of Felix’s own, but before he finished the movement, Felix looked up again, and instead brought them forehead to forehead. Neither of them pulled away, and eventually, Dimitri let out the breath had not realized he had been holding and closed his eyes for a heartbeat before opening them again.

They were close enough that Dimitri could make out Felix’s individual lashes and facets of colors in his eyes for as much as the darkness would allow. Another thing for him to commit to memory.

“Do you think I will see you again.. after….?” Dimitri found himself asking. Felix shrugged and lowered his gaze.

“Probably.” Dimitri’s heart stuttered, but Felix continued undeterred, “We are soulmates, after all, we’ll meet in our next life, that’s what the whole thing is supposed to be about after all.”

The smile on Dimitri’s lips came as a surprise to him, “Is that a promise?” he asked.

Felix gave him an exasperated but fond look. “What is it with you and promises?”

Dimitri shrugged, still smiling and jostled them slightly. Felix shook his head, but he was smiling as he resisted his cheek against Dimitri’s chest. “Alright. In the next life.”

Dimitri smiled as well, though it was a little bittersweet, and rested his head on top of Felix’s own. His eyes wandered back to the star above them and his mind was calm, almost at peace. They stood like that for a long time, until Felix finally broke the silence.

“Dimitri.”

At the call of his name, Dimitri looked down at his soulmate again, but Felix wasn’t looking at him, instead, he was looking straight ahead studying the stars. “After this… I don't want to see you for a long, long time.”

His voice was mostly calm but imploring, but there was an almost desperate undertone that swung with it, and Dimitri felt that bittersweet warmth again. This time, it was his turn.

“Of course.” he said, then, “I promise.”

And Felix looked up at him and smiled back. 

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

The next morning passed in the blink of an eye, and Dimitri found himself standing in one of the side chambers of the restored cathedral, decked out in full regalia.

On the other side of the door, the speeches had already started, but Dimitri did not listen to them. All of his attention was focused on Felix, the only person who was not in the cathedral itself. But even if they had not been alone, it wouldn’t have changed anything. This was the last time Dimitri would see him, and he could not bring himself to look away even for a moment.

It had made some of his conversations a bit awkward, though the professor had been understanding and Dedue had not commented. Felix, however, had rolled his eyes and looked exasperated. Though for all his show of irritation he had not moved out of Dimitri’s line of sight for even a moment, and the weight of his gaze had not left Dimitri either. 

This was the last time, and Dimitri did not know how to say goodbye.

“You never told me,” Dimitri found himself saying eventually. “How you knew we were soulmates.”

The surprise on Felix’s face was clear and the sight filled Dimitri with fondness. Another thing he would miss. Then Felix shook his head slightly and crossed the distance between them until he stood barely a foot away. 

As Dimitri watched Felix’s lips twitched into a smile, and he raised his hand to stroke along the front of Dimitri’s formal garment. It was in the blue of his house. Dimitri raised his own hand, gloved in white to capture Felix’s hand, and press it against his chest. It was almost an instinct by now, a comfort. Another loss to come.

“It's color,” Felix said calmly. “On everything you touch, you leave behind a trace of color. The floor you walk on, the sheets you sleep on, the lance you wield.” 

Their eyes caught, and Felix smiled again, “And me.”

Then he reached upwards, framing Dimitri’s face with his own and pulling him down. Dimitri felt warm lips pressing against his forehead where the crown would rest soon, and he closed his eyes. It felt like a benediction. 

The cheers behind Dimitri reached a crescendo, and Felix pulled back, grinned at him, and pushed him towards the opening door. Dimitri could do nothing but step forward, as his name was announced through the hall to the sound of cheering.

“Long live.” he heard Felix whisper behind him, almost drowned out by the cheers, “I’m going ahead.”

Dimitri nodded, took a deep shuddering breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward, into the light, the roaring sound of the crowd cheering, into his life as king. Into the future.

But he allowed himself this: One last glance back over his shoulder before the door fell close behind him again. One last look at the faintest glimpse of Felix’s smile, before his oldest and dearest friend—his soulmate, who stayed with him beyond even death itself—faded away. 

And Dimitri moved forward.


	15. Epilogue

At least twice a year, Dimitri allowed himself to visit the Duscur memorial. Once on the anniversary of the tragedy, and once during the latter half of the Pegasus Moon. On these days the king kept to himself, did only the most urgent of work, and instead stood in front of the memorial wrapped in his old cloak. He would trace the names on the stone tablet in silence, seemingly deep in thought.

The truth was, that the ghosts never quite left him, though he knew them not to be real. Knew that their whispers and curses were but his own fears twisted in spoken in cherished voices. He learned how to deal with them, and as he grew older more settled both into himself and his role, they grew quieter.

The memorial was a reminder and a touchstone that anchored him to reality.

Sometimes, Dimitri allowed himself to wonder if Felix would approve both of the king he was and the way he grappled with his life, but then he reminded himself that Felix was dead and that Felix had wanted him to be the best him he could be.

With each year that passed that wish seemed less and less unachievable, which each year that passed the grief seemed less all-consuming. With each year that passed, walking away from the memorial stone when the sun started to set, got easier and easier.

But he returned the next year all the same.

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

Dimitri’s knees almost seemed to creak more so than the door, when he climbed the staircase up the goddess tower. Unlike the last times Dimitri visited, all those years ago after the war, it was early evening and the sun was just beginning to set and painting the mountains surrounding the monastery in warm sunset colors.

When he stepped out onto the balcony he drank in the sight in front of it and found himself smiling. This was the fifth time he had come here in his lifetime, but it felt right today.

Tomorrow it would be five decades to the day that he was crowned as king. Five decades of ruling a kingdom that had not quite known how to fit itself together, after centuries of separation and bloodshed.

It still wasn’t perfect of course, even after years of work, both his own and those that worked with him and supported him, but in the last decades, the number of fights and rebellions had dwindled and all but disappeared. The children of today, and in many cases their parents even, did no longer remember the war, and what it was like to be ruled by diversion. 

The world had changed, and he had played his part in it. He looked out across the land and knew that no matter in which direction he looked if asked the people would say that they were of Fodlan. In this year, a third of the students from the graduation class of the academy were from outside of the country, and the xenophobia that had dominated many people in his youth had lessened, though sadly not vanished.

Dimitri stepped up to the railing of the balcony. He could almost imagine another person standing next to him like it had been the other times he had been here. What would he look like? Would he have grown a beard like Dimitri? Would he have gone gray? Would he have kept growing out his hair or cut it short? What would the wrinkles of age look on his face? And would time soften his sharp features?

Dimitri didn’t know, and these were questions he would never learn the answers too. It was something he had learned to live with. Sometimes he had learned to accept and move past but remember all the same.

“Felix, I think,” he said to himself, because there was no one here with him, “That you would be proud of me. And I… am proud of what I accomplished as well.” He breathed in deeply and then smiled, “But I think… this is it.”

**.:** ⛊ **:.**

King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd died in the year 1237, on a snowy morning during the Pegasus Moon. He was not the first nor the last of the people with whom he had once shared classes with to die.

He would be remembered by history as a fair and just king. He was the central figure to the unification of Fodlan, in the aftermath of what would be remembered as Edelgard’s war. Under his leadership, the continent would begin to stitch itself together, as social reforms and exchange were encouraged and pushed through. A lot of the foundations that would lead to great changes in the makeup of the political and social structures would be pushed through in the early years when a lot of the old powers were still grappling with the change in regime.

Outside of his political life, King Dimitri was known as a private man, who preferred the company of his close friends over great gatherings, and tried to keep his private life separate from the influence of the court. His marriage, although born of political necessity, was said to be full of warmth and affection, and produced two children, the elder of which would succeed him after his death. Many books were written about his policies, his actions during the war, and his relationships with his former classmates and peers.

But there are always things that the history books do not say, do not remember, do not understand.

This is something almost all historians agree on: He died smiling.

Though his last words are mostly of anecdotal nature, and no true historical record of them can be found, it is said that he said that in his final hours he spoke about a promise he had kept, and another he hoped would be kept as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd. That’s the end. 😳 
> 
> I hope that despite the tragic events in the fic you still liked reading it, and enjoyed the character growth and interactions that are so dear to my heart. I was really looking forward to posting this fic, but given the topic I was also a bit worried. Every kudo and comment made me really happy. So, a big thank you to everyone who read this fic! It truly was a labour of love. 
> 
> A special thank you to Emma, Sydney, Samarium and all the others who word sprinted with me, and encouraged me to keep writing! It helped a lot and I don’t think I ever would have finished without. And another thanks to Maddy who drew the amazing art for this fic and was the first person who read this fic as a whole! Thank you for your support!
> 
> I’m really glad that I participated in the Dimilix BigBang, though it took me a while to work up the courage to do so. Before this fic I hadn’t really committed to writing anything for a long time, and I was surprised how much I had missed it. Dimilix is just a gift that gives on giving. 🐗💙⚔️
> 
> Hopefully, I will see some of you in December with my next (bigger) project starring the Ghosts of (not quite) Christmas!


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